


Pyrophoric

by Gaffsie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Cheating, Coercion, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Felching, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, Jughead Jones-centric, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Northsider Jughead Jones, Porn, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Shower Sex, Slurs, Tags May Change, Teenagers, Threesome, Underage Drinking, Unsafe Sex, socioeconomic anxieties, the playbook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffsie/pseuds/Gaffsie
Summary: Jughead Jones fucks, falls in love, and fucks up.





	1. /you may ask yourself, where does that highway lead to?/

[](http://sv.tinypic.com?ref=34sh3ia)

Jughead still remembers a time when he'd come home to his parents arguing in the kitchen, only for them to fall silent when he entered the room, a time when bills were all they ever seemed to talk about, and his mom would look at him, standing there in too-short jeans and sneakers that pinched, and give him guilty smiles before sending him on his way to go play with Archie and Betty.

He knows how close they were to the brink; how close they were for his dad's after work beer habit to morph into something else, for his mom to give up on getting her GED and just settle for that dead-end job at the gas station, because at least it payed the bills, _FP, and Jughead needs new clothes, and who the fuck are gonna pay for that, huh? You?!_

Jughead still remembers that. Sometimes, he can picture it in his head, the slow inevitable decline, no doubt ending with them all living in a trailer somewhere on the South Side. In his more melodramatic moments, he pictures himself in a gang, doing petty crimes to help support his family. He's seen the leather jackets his parents have tucked away in the attic, knows what the snake emblems on the backs means. It's not that far-fetched.

But somehow, the impossible happened, and FP got a new job. The pay wasn't spectacular, but it was enough; enough for them to keep the house, enough for Gladys to finish getting her diploma, enough to keep him and Jellybean in clothes that actually _fit_.

But he still remembers, so when his mom looks at his grade card and tells him that he can do better, he _does_ , because he doesn't want to be the one to finally push their family back towards that decline, and when he comes home with a black eye because some kid thought his beanie was smelly, and his dad sits him down and says that maybe he could just try to be normal, just for a while, because people are idiots and they don't understand, he stops wearing it, because he never wants his parents to grow silent when he enters a room again. 

He joins the _Blue & Gold_ and the track team, because his mom tells him it will look good on his college applications, and his dad ruffles his hair and tells him he'll be the first Jones to ever make it to college, because he's _smart_ , smarter than his mom even, and Jughead smiles and ducks his head, but inside he _doubts_. 

They may have a house on the North Side, but it's just a little bit smaller and shabbier than anyone else's, their holiday decorations just a little too tacky to fit in their solidly middle class neighborhood. His parents fights are just a little too loud and public, their laughter too unrestrained. 

They're still South Side trash deep inside, and he is too. But he tries, for their sake, and for Jellybean's. Because if he's the first Jones to make it to college, to finally achieve that perfect North Side existence, the filth of the South Side finally washed clean, at least Jellybean won't have to live with those expectations. She'll be free to live her life the way she wants, fulfill her dreams without any of his anxieties. 

When he told his mom he wanted to be a writer, she smiled at him, and said that writing is all well and good, but it doesn't pay the bills, now does it? He hopes that when Jellybean finally makes up her mind whether she wants to be a mechanic, a rock-star or an archer, mom will smile at her and tell her to follow her heart.

He still writes, can't help it. Short stories and poems, and articles for the school newspaper, and he still has his dream of someday writing a novel, but there's not really time for that, what with homework and tutoring (because he _needs_ that A in AP Physics), the B&G and the track team.

He's somehow even acquired a social life that consists of more than just hanging out in his tree house with Archie and Betty. He goes to _parties_. He doesn't particularly enjoy them, but he knows it's important to forge social connections for the future, so he goes, drinks the cheep beer, and consoles himself that at least this way he'll get some material for his stories.

That's how this whole thing with Reggie Mantle starts, at a party. It's one of the guys on his team that's throwing it; his parents are out of town for the weekend and he's, predictably, taking full advantage.

He and Reggie don't really have a lot to do with each other. They nod at each other in the halls, one student athlete to another, and that's about it, but Reggie crashes down next to him on the living room couch, slinging his arm over Jughead's shoulder like they're old friends.

“Jooones, what's up! Nice job at the track meet! You've got some moves, man!” He jostles Jughead's arm in one of those displays of masculine friendship that all the members of the football team seem to revel in, and Jughead consequently spills his beer all over the front of his t-shirt and jeans.

“Shit,” Jughead says. Now more than ever he wishes he was home in bed with his laptop. 

“Fuck, man, that's my bad.” Reggie grabs the hem of his shirt, rubbing the stain with his fingers, and this seems a bit beyond appropriate bro behavior. How drunk _is_ Reggie?

A lot to very, he concludes, as Reggie practically leaps off the couch and drags Jughead with him.

“Gonna fix you right up, bro,” he says, dragging Jughead past the gaggle of teens in the living room and up the stairs. Jughead gives some token resistance, but though he's able to outrun Reggie, he's certainly not able to take him on in a scuffle. The guy is huge. Besides, his shirt is sticking uncomfortably to his stomach, and the stain on his jeans makes it look like he's just pissed himself, so if Reggie has a solution to that problem, Jughead's not gonna fight him.

Reggie brings him to the upstairs bathroom, which Jughead is pretty sure was supposed to be off-limits to guests, but judging by the potent weed smell in there, they're not the only ones to ignore the house rules.

He barely has time to close the door behind him before Reggie pushes him up against it, and Jughead has no real idea what the hell is going on. Is Reggie trying to _bully_ him? He thought they were done with that song and dance in middle school.

“I really didn't mean to spill your beer, man,” Reggie mumbles, “but this was just too perfect.”

Jughead doesn't get the chance to wonder what he means by that, because Reggie leans in and kisses him, his hands trapped between their chests.

This isn't something that happens to Jughead. He's done the whole truth-or-dare thing at parties before, but someone kissing him out of their own free will? That's new. He wonders if he should push Reggie off, or kiss him back, but in the end he doesn't have to choose. Reggie takes a step back himself, looking uncharacteristically bashful.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and to his surprise, Jughead has to admit that yes, yes it is. He nods, mouth still tingling from Reggie's kiss, and Reggie just... lights up. There's no other word for it. His smile is huge and grateful, and Jughead is struck by just how handsome he is, with his undeniably masculine features softened by the fond look in his almond-shaped eyes.

“Cool,” he says, and then he leans in a little, letting his hands slide down from Jughead's chest to his waist.

Jughead fumbles for the lock, because he doesn't think Reggie wants anyone to walk in on this, whatever _this_ is. It shuts close with a quiet “'click,” and Reggie smiles, pleased. 

“Knew you were smart,” he says, and then he kisses Jughead for real, nipping softly at his lip until Jughead opens his mouth with a small gasp, and Reggie can push his tongue into his mouth. Jughead sucks on it, because he's pretty sure that's what the done thing is, and because he wants to. This goes so far beyond the feeling of dutifully kissing Midge Klump at Cheryl Blossom's end of semester bash last summer that it might as well be in a different galaxy. He feels dizzy, like he needs air, and at the same time like he'll die if Reggie stops kissing him even for a second.

He throws his arms around Reggie's shoulders, hanging on like it's the one thing holding him up. He's pretty sure it is, actually, because his legs feel like jelly.

Jughead doesn't know for how long they're making out against the door, but it's enough for someone on the outside to jiggle the handle, and then knock loudly.

“I need to take a piss!”

“Fuck off!” Reggie shouts, and Jughead can't help but chuckle. 

One last kick at the door, and they can hear the guy walk away. Jughead and Reggie look at each other. Reggie is rubbing circles at Jughead's waist with his thumb. His lips are shiny with spit, eyes hooded, and Jughead bites his lip at the sight. 

There's an honest-to-god _growl_ from Reggie, and then he _heaves_ , and Jughead has to lock his legs around Reggie's hips to not fall down. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, as Reggie carries him to the sink and deposits him on the counter top.

“That was impressive,” he says, a little shakily. He looks, wide-eyed, at Reggie, who's back to his usual smug self.

“You haven't seen nothing yet,” he says. He lifts Jughead's chin with his finger, and kisses him again, like a fucking movie star or something, and then he starts working his way down until he's kissing Jughead's neck. Jughead grabs his head, thumbs rubbing restlessly at his side-burns, lazily letting Reggie push his head further to the side.

“Are you gonna give me a hickey?” he asks, voice breathy, because it seems like that's the direction they're going. He wouldn't be averse, he thinks. New experiences are good. 

Reggie makes a snorting sound, like he's amused, and Jughead can't decide if it's great or weird that he can feel the puff of air against his neck, but then Reggie starts applying some gentle suction, and Jughead makes a little whimpering sound he will go to his grave denying ever left his lips.

Jughead's hard in his jeans, and he'd feel self-conscious about it if Reggie wasn't moving his hips against him, his equally hard cock brushing up against Jughead's and making it very clear he's as into this as Jughead is. 

Reggie leans back, leaving a wet spot on his neck that throbs kind of nicely. Jughead wonders if he's left a mark. Part of him kind of hopes he did. Reggie's hands move from Jughead's face, down his chest, until they're resting at his belt-buckle.

“Do it,” Jughead breathes, and Reggie does, deftly unclasping his belt and working his fly open. Jughead lifts his ass a little, letting Reggie pull down his jeans and boxers to his thighs, and then he's sitting bare-assed at the counter, watching as Reggie gets his own pants open and pulls out his dick. 

It's a very nice dick, not that Jughead's got much ground for comparison. Pretty big, and curling a little against his stomach. Cut, and Jughead wonders what that's like. Figures Reggie wouldn't mind if he found out, so he reaches out to touch, gives it a caress from root to head. Reggie fucks into the motion with a satisfied groan, and Jughead watches, fascinated, as a bead of precum seeps out from the head.

“Is that good?” he asks.

“Get your palm wet, and it'll be perfect,” Reggie grunts, so Jughead brings his hand to his mouth, and licks the palm until it feels wet enough. He looks at Reggie from under lowered lashes, wanting to get a read on if he's doing it right. 

“Fuck, _your mouth_ ". 

He smiles a little evilly at Reggie, enjoying having this kind of power over him, even if only in this moment, and then he reaches for his dick again, working it the way he does to himself in the shower (never in his room, not after his dad almost walked in on him and gave him shit about it for _a week_ ).

Reggie leans in to kiss him again, letting one hand fall to Jughead's thigh, while the other grasps his dick. Jughead moans gratefully around the tongue in his mouth, and together they work up a nice rhythm, Reggie mirroring the way Jughead's wrist is working on his dick. Jughead can still hear the party going on downstairs, the thump of the bass hard to avoid even up here, no doubt thanks to the shitty McMansion insulation, but the wet and nasty-hot sounds of flesh hitting flesh and muffled moaning feels a lot more immediate. 

Jughead comes first, surprising himself with how sudden it is. He can feel it sparkling along his spine, and one well-timed flick of Reggie's wrist later he's coming, spurting over Reggie's hand without even a courtesy warning.

He's always a bit out of it after a good orgasm, arms noodle-y and useless, so when his hand stills on Reggie's dick, he's grateful when Reggie bats it away and takes over.

“You're lucky you're hot,” Reggie says, but he sounds fond, so Jughead figures he's not mad. 

He watches as Reggie jerks himself off, eyes darting between his face, which is scrunched up in concentration, and his dick.

When Reggie comes, it's with a satisfied groan. His come makes an arc through the air and lands on Jughead's crotch, like a fucking come-shot from a porn flick. It's ridiculous and messy, but kind of hot.

“Nice aim,” Jughead says, voice dry.

“Shut up, you love it.” 

Reggie kisses his cheek with a 'smack,' affectionate and a bit loopy, and it feels strangely intimate even after everything they've done together tonight.

That's how it starts.

~*~

Jughead isn't sure exactly what they are to each other. They don't play footsie with each other at Pop's, and Jughead doesn't sit on Reggie's lap when they're on the couch in the student lounge, the way Val acts with Archie. They don't hold hands in the hallways and go to the movies together either, the way Betty does with Trev.

But Reggie comes to all his track meets now. He claims it's just to ogle Jughead in those tight shorts, but it still feels weirdly like something a boyfriend would do. And Jughead even starts going to some of the football games. It's mostly because he somehow volunteered himself to cover them for the B&G, but he can't deny that it gives him a thrill when Reggie waves at him when the players jog out onto the field before the game.

They do more than just pass each other in the halls too. Now they walk _together_ , Reggie throwing a companionable arm over Jughead's shoulder and ragging on him for being a teacher's pet. Again, it's nothing like Jughead thought a relationship would be like, but he enjoys it for what it is, and hopes that Reggie won't grow tired of him too soon. He knows what the football players are like, after all, and even though Kevin coos over them and calls them Riverdale High's very own gay power couple, Jughead has no reason to think he's more than a friend with benefits to Reggie.

Jughead is still waiting for Reggie to decide that he'd rather go back to dating cheerleaders. It's a bit exhausting, actually, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he's resolved to enjoy himself while it lasts, to get the most out of this relationship while he has it, because he doubts people will be lining up for the chance to date him once Reggie dumps him.

It's why he always says, “yes;” yes to make-out sessions under the bleachers, yes to studying together in the library (which leads to making out in a deserted corner in the biology section), yes to staying over at Reggie's place while his parents are gone on a weekend trip to New York.

He considers telling his parents that he's staying over at Archie's. He can't even explain why to himself, but it feels too official, too much like something _real_. He guesses he doesn't want them to feel disappointed when everything inevitably goes to shit. In the end he realizes that the risk of his dad blabbing to Fred is too big. Better just to tell the truth, even if he does let them work under the assumption that he and Reggie are gonna play _Smash Bros_ and eat junk food the whole weekend.

They haven't really had a chance to do anything involving nudity yet. The closest they've come are some hot and heavy petting sessions in Reggie's car, and that first shared hand-job almost a month ago. Privacy is hard to come by for the two of them, so this weekend is a gift; one they're determined to take advantage of. 

Jughead feels kind of stupid packing his overnight bag, like he's playing at being worldly. Is he supposed to pack sexy underwear? What even _is_ sexy underwear? After some mild panicking, he decides that his black boxers will have to do. At least they're the color of sin, or whatever. He's bought lube and condoms, just in case, and he packs them too

He showers carefully, and then spends more time than usual on his hair. According to Kevin it's his best feature, so he tries to make it flop attractively in the way that always makes Kevin, with poorly hidden envy, call him Clive Durham (at least he hopes it's a reference to his hair. The alternative is kind of depressing).

Reggie has some kind of fetish for him in sweaters, so he picks his burgundy one and pairs it with blue jeans. Last time he wore that, Reggie pulled him into the boy's locker room and kissed him against the lockers until the bell rang for third period (math for him, AP history for Jughead), so it seems like a pretty good bet. 

He's feeling pretty good about himself as he's bounding down the stairs, thinking that he'll be able to make a clean escape. Unfortunately, his mom seems to have some kind of sixth sense when it comes to his comings and goings, so she's calls out to him from the kitchen.

With a sigh, he drops his bag on the floor and makes it over to the kitchen. His mom is standing by the counter, frowning at a drooping eternity plant like it's personally wronged her.

“What's up?” he asks, trying to sound casual about it.

She looks up, does a double take, and then scans him from top to toe. Jughead frowns. He's got a bad feeling about this.

“Oh, honey,” she says, sounding a bit exasperated. Her eyes are sparkling in a way that spells trouble.

“I was just gonna tell you to have a good time with your friend, but that was when I thought you were going there to play video games and pig out.”

“What, I'm not allowed to go anymore?” Jughead tries not to sound as disappointed as he feels, but apparently he fails, because his mom walks over to him and cups his face in her hands.

“Of course you can go, sweetie.” She smirks at him. “It's just that we both know you're not going there to play _Super Mario Bros_.”

“ _Smash Bros_ , mom,” Jughead sighs and squirms out of her grasp.

She pats his cheek affectionately. “It's funny, you don't spend twenty minutes fixing your hair when you stay over at Archie's.”

Jughead freezes; there's no better word for it. Flight or fight, and he chooses the third option; panic and freeze and get eaten by the big scary predator.

His mom looks startled at his reaction. “It's okay, Juggie. I think it's great that you've found yourself a boyfriend. I always thought it would be Archie, but hey,” she shrugs, “I can't always be right.”

“I-”

“Did you bring condoms? Pregnancy's obviously not an issue, but don't trust these High School boys when they tell you they're clean.”

“What,” he says, weakly.

“You need to stay safe,” she says, very seriously. “And don't let him do anything you're not comfortable with. No boy's worth that.”

She hugs him, presses her arms tight around him and tells him that if anything happens, doesn't matter if it's in the middle of the night, she'll come get him; and she'll bring her switch-blade if need be. She releases him with a kiss to his head and a, ”sorry, your hair!” as she finger combs it back in order.

He can't really meet her eyes after that, finding his beat-up chucks very interesting all of a sudden.

“Thanks, mom,” he mumbles. And he does actually feel pretty grateful. It makes him feel all squirmy inside knowing that she _knows_ , but he likes that she cares. Cares enough to knife a guy for his sake, apparently.

“You look very nice,” she tells him. “Dressed to impress.”

“Yeah?” He says. It's kind of nice to get confirmation.

She gives him a devilish smile. “You're getting lucky for sure.” 

He grimaces.

“Okay, that's my cue to leave.”

“Have fun!” She shouts at his retreating back. 

He hurries out of the house, half-expecting his dad to be lurking in the hall with even more embarrassing questions and advice, possibly involving snake metaphors. He only pauses to pick up his bag and a jacket, and then he's out. 

His mom's car got a broken carburetor that she's waiting for a spare part for, so this week they have to make do with just his dad's truck, otherwise Jughead could have borrowed some wheels. Sometimes he toys with the idea of asking if they can teach him to ride one of the motorcycles that he knows they keep in storage, but the last time he brought it up they both got really prissy about it. “When you're older” seems to be the eternal refrain. He's pretty sure that's code for “never.”

It's a twenty minute walk to Reggie's house, but he doesn't really mind. It's a crisp fall day and it's nice to get a chance to clear his head. It's in a fancier neighborhood than his house. The yards are larger and hidden behind stone walls rather than white picket fences, and most people have actual pools in their gardens, and not just those inflatable kiddie pools you can get for $20 at Walmart.

It's a whole different world, and it makes Jughead feel like even more of a fraud than usual.

He has to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants before he rings the doorbell. He doesn't have to wait long for Reggie to throw the door open, wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt. He looks eager, like Jughead feels, and that makes this whole thing a lot easier.

“You came,” he says, beaming down at him. He even goes so far as to take the bag from Jughead's hand, like he's playing at being a gentleman, and Jughead feels _charmed_. It's a dangerous feeling, but one Jughead can't shake as Reggie leads him up the stairs and to his bedroom, chatting about dinner and a new Netflix show he wants them to check out. It's domestic and cozy, and not what Jughead expected, but he likes it. 

Likes it even more when they get to Reggie's room and Reggie throws his bag on the floor by the desk, lifting his arms in an expansive gesture, telling him that “mi casa es su casa,” and looking a little nervous about it. Jughead looks around, noting the bed, properly made with a blue comforter in place, two throw-pillows resting in the middle, the floor and other available sources free from clutter, and he realizes that Reggie _cleaned_ for him.

“It's a nice place,” he tells him, meaning it, liking the hints of Reggie's personality that still comes through in the decor, even if he suspects there are usually more dirty socks on the floor, the bed unmade and desk cluttered with dirty dishes and gadgets. 

“There's an en-suite over there,” Reggie says, gesturing to a door on the left side of the room, and Jughead says, “cool,” and feels like an idiot. 

“Do you want to-” he starts saying, just as Reggie blurts out, “I'm making mac and cheese for dinner, but maybe we could just hang in the living room until then?”

“You cook?” 

Reggie looks so bashful that Jughead can't stop a smile from breaking out. 

“A little,” he says, shrugging, and then, “I'm home alone a lot, and you do actually get tired of take-out after a while.”

“A man of many talents,” Jughead teases him, liking that he gets to see this side of him.

“Mantle the Magnificent, that's me,” he says, rolling his eyes a little.

~*~

They do end up in the living room, idly watching a true crime documentary; Jughead's choice. Reggie complains a lot, but eventually settles down with good grace, lying across the sofa with his feet in Jughead's lap. 

“I can't believe you're into this,” he says, as a crusty old police officer details the gory details of a double homicide. “You're such a ghoul.” He pokes Jughead with his toe, and in another life, it might be said with menace, but here it's just gently ribbing.

Jughead hushes him, because it's just getting interesting, and Reggie groans and launches himself off the couch. 

“Okay,” he says. “You watch your little murder show, and I'll get dinner ready.” He pats Jughead's knee, just to show he's kidding, and then he lopes off to the kitchen. Jughead considers staying put, but that feels rude, so he follows him into the kitchen, and hovers awkwardly around as Reggie gathers ingredients and utensils. 

“I knew you couldn't stay away from me,” Reggie says, looking smug about it.

It ends up being really pleasant, watching Reggie cook, helping him set the table, talking about everything and nothing. 

“It's not much,” Reggie says, as he brings the pot to the table, “but I've been in the mood for mac and cheese all week.” 

“It's cool. I can't cook anything more complex than cereal.”

“Remind me never to accept a dinner invitation from you,” Reggie teases him.

Reggie's brought out two bottles of beer, and Jughead doesn't have the heart to tell him that he'd rather have a coke or something, because it's so obvious that Reggie is making an effort. He's trying to _woo_ him, and Jughead almost wants to tell him that it's unnecessary, but he thinks that would just make him self-conscious.

It does feel weirdly adult to sit down to dinner with Reggie in the Mantle kitchen. Reggie even made a _salad_. It's a nice feeling; one he didn't think he'd ever get with Reggie; playing at being a couple.

They clink their bottles together, like something out of a cheesy rom-com, and Jughead wants this to be real so bad. 

“So you don't cook,” Reggie says, “and you're the only person I know who make partying look like a chore-,” and Jughead has to avert his eyes at that, feeling a little like a bug under a microscope. 

“That obvious, huh?” he says instead, reaching for his bottle and taking a sip of the beer. 

Reggie points his food-laden fork at him. “Dude, you're always trying to disappear into the background.”

“You're more observant than I expected,” Jughead says, a bit startled, realizing too late that he sounds like an asshole.

Reggie is unfazed though. He shrugs. “I like looking at you.”

Jughead can feel himself blushing. He gulps down his beer like a dying man, not knowing what to say to that. 

“It's cool though,” Reggie says, ignoring the weird mood, “props for making an effort and not just being an antisocial jerk.”

That startles a laugh out of him. 

“Thank you, Reggie,” he tilts his head, eyebrow raised, “I think.”

Reggie raises his bottle at him, smirking a little.

They eat in silence for a while; both of them are teenage boys after all, and Jughead's stomach, at least, is essentially a black hole.

“I was gonna ask you what else you do for fun, since partying and cooking is out.” Reggie is dragging his fork through the left-over cheese sauce. “It can't be all extra-curriculars.”

Jughead is glad he still has some food in his mouth. Chewing gives him an excuse to think. 

“I write,” he finally admits. “Short stories and stuff.” It's not something he usually tells people. It feels so pretentious, like, _oh yeah, I am for sure equipped to write about the human experience_.

“Should have guessed,” Reggie says, taking a deep pull from his beer. “You're smart.”

Jughead meets his eyes, half-way expecting to see mockery there, but Reggie looks genuine. He can't really name the emotion that inspires in him, some writer he is, but it makes him feel all squirmy inside, and he just knows his blush is back with a vengeance.

“This was really good,” he says, trying to come up with something neutral to say. There are a lot of compliments he could give Reggie, all of them true, but he doesn't want to give away just how impressive he finds the other boy.

“It's lactose free,” Reggie offers.

“I couldn't tell,” he says, feeling hopelessly inane and awkward. “But I guess that's the point, huh?”

Reggie gives him a little smile, like he knows Jughead is trying. 

“Wanna watch the rest of your show?” Reggie asks, but Jughead shakes his head.

“After this great meal, I no longer hunger for death,” and he can't believe he fucking said that; Reggie's gonna think he's a psycho if he keeps this up. But he needn't have worried, because Reggie just chuckles at him, shaking his head a little, like he finds Jughead an amusing novelty.

“You're a weirdo,” he says, and it sounds like a compliment.

“Guilty.”

“We'll do my show instead. You're gonna love it. There's like layers to it.”

They dump their dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and Reggie makes him some coffee with the shiny Keurig that's taking up space on the granite kitchen counter. Jughead watches him fiddle with the controls, his large hands precise and steady, and he feels a twinge of lust, imagining those hands on his body. 

Reggie isn't much of a coffee drinker, so true to form he grabs another beer from the fridge for himself.

“Your parents don't mind you drinking?” Jughead has to ask him, because he can't imagine his parents leaving beer in the fridge for him if they ever left him alone for the weekend.

“My parents don't give a shit,” Reggie says, simply. “As long as I pass my classes and make varsity, I can do pretty much whatever.”

“Do they know about me?” Jughead asks. He's never met Mrs. Mantle, but Reggie's dad is, by all accounts, a bit of a hardass.

Reggie smirks a little, joylessly. “My dad didn't raise no fag,” he says. “They don't know you're here, and if they find out, I'll tell them you were helping me with my English project.”

Jughead taps his nose. “Roger that.”

“Do your parents know?” Reggie asks. He's twisting the bottle in his hands, looking uncharacteristically anxious.

“My mom does. I didn't tell her, but she figured it out. Apparently I was doing too much primping for a bro-date.”

“And she was cool with it?” 

“Yeah.”

Reggie furrows his brow, giving him a concerned look. “And your dad, how will he take it? He's not gonna freak out, is he?”

Jughead shrugs.

“Worst case scenario, he'll give me a lot of terrible advice, and threaten to beat you up if you break my heart.”

Reggie gives him a long, searching look. Apparently he's satisfied with what he sees, because he nods, and then he slaps Jughead on the shoulder and tells him to get the chips from the pantry. Jughead rubs his shoulder theatrically and pouts at him, and Reggie ruffles his hair, and just like that the oddly somber mood is gone and they're back to being two teenage boys on what can only be described as a _date_. Sure, they're just chilling at Reggie's place, but Reggie made him dinner, and they're gonna watch Netflix together.

They get their snacks, Jughead cradling his cup of coffee like the sweet nectar of the gods that it is, and settle down on the couch. Closer to each other this time, their knees brushing against each other and shoulders bumping together every time one of them moves. 

It's cozy, and for a while they just enjoy it. The show Reggie wanted to watch turns out to be pretty engrossing, and Jughead sips his coffee and spends more time thinking about the characters on screen than the admittedly attractive boy sitting next to him.

After a while, Reggie slips his arm over Jughead's shoulder, and Jughead can feel himself going stiff and awkward, not really knowing how to act, so he steels himself and deliberately leans his head against Reggie's shoulder, not wanting Reggie to think that he's suddenly not into this whole situation.

It must have been the right thing to do, because Reggie presses a soft kiss to his forehead, and it's sweet, in the way that Jughead is learning that Reggie can be sometimes, and kind of irresistible, so Jughead leans up and kisses him back, properly this time; on the mouth. 

It's not the best position, his head angled a bit awkwardly, but Reggie kisses back, his large hand coming up to cradle Jughead's cheek, acting as eager for it as Jughead feels. They twist around a little, until they're facing each other properly, half kneeling on the sofa.

He's vaguely aware that the show is still on in the background, voices and sounds not really registering, not when he's finally with Reggie for real, no people around, no interruptions. Just the two of them making out on the couch, Reggie's tongue tangling with his, his hands petting his sides, rucking up his sweater a little.

Reggie's moving on to his neck, peppering him with kisses, and Jughead moans. Reggie huffs out a laugh; he knows what that does to him, and in retaliation Jughead pushes at his chest, until Reggie's lying back against the arm-rest, dark eyes glittering up at him in challenge.

“I can't believe we have the whole weekend for ourselves,” Jughead says. After all the rushed handjobs they've had (in Reggie's car, behind the bleachers, in Fox Forest), being with Reggie like this still feels a bit unreal.

“Yeah?” Reggie says, smirking up at him. “What you gonna do about it?”

Suddenly Jughead's mind is whirling with options; all the things he wants to do with Reggie before the weekend is over. It's a bit overwhelming, to be honest, like he's spoiled for choice.

“Take off your shirt,” he finally settles on, tugging a little at the offending garment, and Reggie snorts out a laugh, but complies easily, and _finally_ Jughead gets to look at Reggie's naked chest in all it's glory. All that golden skin on display just for him. He traces Reggie's abs, first with his fingers, and then with his tongue, making a brief detour to his nipples, sucking curiously at one until he can feel it harden under his tongue, plucking at the other with his fingers. Reggie's breathing kind of hard, and he moves his hands to Jughead's hair, tugging meaningfully at it. 

Jughead looks up, and Reggie raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Are you gonna suck my dick, or what?” he says, somehow managing to sound both smug and breathless at once. He looks so hot like this, a flush high on his cheekbones, eyes dark with desire, and Jughead glances down, sees that Reggie is sporting a respectable tent in his jeans, and even though part of him wants to be contrary, there's a bigger part of him that really wants to see what it's like to suck Reggie, feel that large cock on his tongue.

With shaking hands, he reaches for Reggie's fly, fumbling it open. Reggie helps him push off his jeans, bringing his boxer briefs down with them, his cock springing up against his stomach.

It looks impossibly large up close like this, and Jughead doesn't dare take it in his mouth just yet. Instead he circles the base with his fingers and leans in, licking the shaft experimentally, the flat of his tongue tracing the veins.

Reggie's hands tightens in his hair, and, encouraged, Jughead tries licking the head, poking his tongue at the slit. A drop of precum wells up, and he licks it off, not really loving the taste, but not hating it either. Reggie moans, and there's a soft thudding sound, his head falling back against the armrest.

He opens his mouth and works his mouth around the head, sucking a little, and Reggie grunts, tugging at his hair, a silent urging to get on with it already.

Jughead glances up at him from under lowered lashes, catching Reggie's gaze as he slowly works his dick deeper into his mouth. 

“Fuck yeah,” Reggie mutters. “You look so good like this,” and Jughead lets the compliment wash over him, surprised at how gratifying it feels.

He doesn't manage to take Reggie all the way, deep-throating turning out to be an acquired skill after all, no matter his idle fantasies of blowing Reggie's mind with how good he is. Once Reggie's dick hits the back of his mouth, he has to pull off again, but he covers what he can't fit in his mouth with his hand, and focuses on the rest, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, letting his tongue work around the shaft, letting Reggie's moans and grunts guide him.

Reggie keeps tugging at his hair, and Jughead likes the way it makes his scalp tingle. Endearments and dirty talk keeps falling from his lips, and it would be funny how much like a porn star he sounds if it wasn't so hot.

“I'm gonna come,” he grunts, and Jughead's a little proud at how quickly he got him to this point. 

He keeps sucking, and then there's a heartfelt moan in his ears, and Reggie's dick spurting on his tongue, and he swallows a little desperately, feeling like he's gonna choke on the thick, salty liquid.

“Holy shit,” Reggie says.

Jughead lets the softening dick slide out of his mouth, and let's Reggie haul him up until he's straddling him.

Reggie drags him down in a kiss, licking into his mouth like he's chasing his own flavour, and Jughead moans around his tongue, winding his arms around Reggie's neck, and pushing his hard dick against Reggie's abs, mindlessly chasing his own release.

Reggie gets his fly open, and gets a hand around Jughead's dick, all that practice coming in handy now, and it only takes a few tugs for Jughead to come, spurting all over Reggie's stomach. 

He glances down, and it's weirdly affecting, seeing those white globs of spunk on his skin. Like he's marked him.

Reggie is unmoved though, and simply reaches for his t-shirt and wipes the mess off. He tosses it on the floor with a satisfied sigh.

“Wanna keep watching?” he nods towards the TV, where the main character is currently being threatened at gunpoint, and, yeah, that actually sounds pretty good.

“Only if I get a coke out of it,” Jughead says, and Reggie snorts.

“Go get it yourself, you lazy bitch.” He shoves Jughead off his lap, and adds, “and get me one too.”

Jughead flips him off, but then he pulls up his pants and does go to get them sodas. 

They turn out to have a pretty great night together, just lazily binge-watching Reggie's show. Jughead nods off sometime around episode 5, and Reggie nudges him awake.

“Let's try this in a bed, yeah?”

“Not tonight, honey, I have a headache,” Jughead mumbles, already closing his eyes again.

“I meant _sleep_ , dumb-ass.”

Reggie hauls him up by his arm, and, grumpily, Jughead lets him drag him up the stairs and to the bedroom. He gets ready for bed on autopilot, and doesn't really consider the fact that he and Reggie are about to share a bed for the first time until he's lying down stiffly next to Reggie, wondering how they're supposed to do this. 

It's a large bed, but he feels like he's still taking up too much of it, and he's hyper-aware of Reggie's body next to his. 

“For fuck's sake,” Reggie finally grumbles, and gathers him into his arms. 

“Spooning, really?” Jughead asks, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Shut up, Jones,” Reggie mumbles into his hair, and tightens his grip. 

Lying so close to him, Jughead can feel the moment Reggie falls asleep. His breath evens out, and his grip goes slack. Jughead's a little envious; he's never been one to fall asleep that quickly.

It's a new and not wholly pleasant experience, being spooned. Reggie is a warm weight along his back, and he feels a little crowded. It takes him a while to get used to the sounds of an additional person in the room with him; the regular breathing, and occasional soft snore. 

He doesn't want to wake Reggie up, so he forces himself to lie still, obsessively planning out his next story in his head until sleep finally claims him.

 

When he wakes up in the morning, he's sprawled over Reggie like a star-fish. He's kicked the covers off sometime in the night, and he feels a little chilly, suddenly missing the feeling of Reggie's warm body draped along his back.

He briefly considers going back to sleep, but he feels wide-awake, so instead he gets up, careful not to disturb Reggie, and goes to the bathroom. 

He's just finished brushing his teeth when there's a knock on the door. Jughead opens the door and lets Reggie, looking bleary-eyed and adorable, in. 

“You about done in here?” Reggie asks, scratching his head, and Jughead nods. He presses a quick kiss to Reggie's cheek and ambles back into the bedroom. 

He doesn't feel like getting dressed just yet, so instead he lounges on the bed, scrolling through his Instagram feed and leaving comments on Betty's latest entries.

Suddenly, a towel hits him on the head, and he looks up to see Reggie standing by the bed in nothing but his underwear.

“Wanna join me in the shower?” Reggie asks him, waggling his eyebrows in a way he probably thinks is _suave_ , and Jughead laughs and says, “okay, since you asked so nicely.”

By the time Jughead's put away his phone and undressed, Reggie's already in the bathroom. Jughead can hear the water running through the door.

When Jughead gets there, Reggie's under the shower spray, tilting his head back and enjoying the hot water on his skin. Jughead just stands there watching him for a couple of seconds, feeling a little like a creep, but not really caring, because _fuck_ , Reggie's hot; tall, solid, with a well-defined ass, and strong thighs. His fingers suddenly itch with the need to _touch_. 

The shower is certainly large enough for two, and Jughead slips in easily behind Reggie, sliding up behind him and enjoying the sight of Reggie's naked body, glistening and wet, up close. He puts his hands on Reggie's waist, and Reggie turns in his arms, smirking at him.

“Knew you couldn't resist my hot bod,” he says, teasingly, and Jughead rolls his eyes at him.

“Just too bad about the mouth,” Jughead says, and Reggie's smirk widens into a grin before he bends down and kisses him.

Jughead opens his mouth easily, letting Reggie push his tongue into his mouth, sucking on it. He uses his grip on Reggie's waist to push him against the wall, enjoying the way Reggie allows him to cage him in.

The water is just the right temperature, and the spray has just the right pressure, and Jughead feels like he could spend the rest of the day in here, kissing Reggie against the tiled shower wall, grinding up against his muscular thigh, the water making everything deliciously slick and easy.

Reggie's got one hand in his hair, seeming a little obsessed with it, not that Jughead minds, because it feels so _good_ having that large hand play with his dark tresses. His other hand is caressing his back, making a large sweep, up and down, up and down, and it's not until it's resting on his ass, middle finger dangerously close to his asshole, that Jughead gets that it was the goal from the start. 

It makes him feel reckless and a little scared, and he presses closer against Reggie's large, powerful body, his own grip tightening at Reggie's hips as he kisses him hungrily, determined to go through with this. 

Reggie's finger rubs against his rim, and Jughead shudders, wrenching his mouth away from Reggie's.

“Can I?” Reggie asks, and Jughead nods, pressing his face against Reggie's neck, sucking at the skin there, as Reggie reaches to the shower shelf and fumbles for something there.

There's a soft click of a lid being popped open, almost inaudibly behind the sound of the shower and Jughead's own harsh breathing.

Then there's a slick finger rubbing at his opening, and Jughead gasps, a little bit overwhelmed, but mostly curious. He leans his head against Reggie's shoulder.

“You keep lube in the shower?” he asks, a little bit annoyed at the presumption that he's that easy, but mostly impressed at the foresight.

“Not my first rodeo,” Reggie says, a bit smugly, and Jughead's about to say something scathing, but then Reggie pushes in, and whatever Jughead's about to say gets lost on a moan. 

It's just one finger, but it still feels huge, filling him up in a way he can't decide if he likes or not. 

Reggie certainly seems to like it, judging from the heartfelt groan that escapes him.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he says, a little wondering, and then he pulls it out, but not before brushing up against a spot that makes electricity sparkle against Jughead's spine. He gives a full-body shiver, and Reggie chuckles a little shakily and pushes back in, fucking him with his finger now, trying to find that spot again.

Jughead grinds against him a little dreamily, open mouth panting against Reggie's neck, pushing his hips back whenever Reggie pushes in, trying to find that electric feeling again.

“Think you can take another one?” Reggie asks, and Jughead nods. 

“Yeah,” he says, a little shakily, moaning when Reggie pushes in, with two fingers this time. 

It feels better like this, improbably, stretching around Reggie's thick fingers, enjoying the slick glide of them inside him. They press on his prostate, and he moans, loud and unashamed, and he wonders if Reggie's dick will feel even better.

“You gotta let me fuck you,” Reggie says, _begs_ , really, “I'll make it good for you, I swear.”

“Yeah,” Jughead moans, “do it,” and Reggie pulls out, leaving Jughead empty and bereft, clenching on air, sore and wanting. 

Reggie kisses him, hands on his face, sloppy, and then he turns him around, pushes Jughead up against the wall, hardly giving him time to brace himself before his hands are on Jughead's thighs, coaxing him to arch his back, widen his stance, _present_ for him, and Jughead feels like a _slut_ , but he lets him anyway, because he wants this, wants all of it.

There's that soft sound of the lube bottle being opened again, and then there's one hand at the small of his back, grounding him, and what can only be the thick head of Reggie's dick pushing against his asshole, and Jughead hangs his head and tries very hard to relax, let Reggie press into him inch by inch.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Reggie chants behind him, and Jughead is right there with him. He thought Reggie's fingers were thick, but they're nothing compared to his cock. It feels like he's being _cleaved_ , split apart, but it's too late to back out now, so he lets it happen to him, lets Reggie push in all the way.

After what feels like a small eternity, sound of blood rushing in his ears, Reggie bottoms out. He is in _so deep_. Jughead feels like he's been taken over, and he clenches helplessly around the thick length, making Reggie groan and, impossibly, fuck into him a little deeper.

“Gimme a second,” he says, hating how weak his voice sounds, and Reggie shushes him, pats his flank and kisses his neck, calming him.

“You're doing so good, sweetheart,” he mumbles against Jughead's overheated skin. “Gonna make you love it, I swear, gonna fuck you so good.”

He drags one hand to Jughead's half-hard dick, working it until Jughead's at full mast again, and once he feels Jughead relax in his arms he pulls out, careful but relentless. He adds more lube, and then he pushes in again, the glide easier now, and Jughead doesn't know if it's because of the extra lube, or if his body is simply getting used to the intrusion now.

Jughead realizes that Reggie is being _careful_ with him, fucking him nice and slow, letting Jughead adjust to the feeling even though it's got to be killing him, going so slow. It's working too, the pain receding and leaving behind a dull ache that he almost finds himself enjoying, the slight friction of Reggie's thick cock fucking into him weirdly pleasurable. Every time Reggie pushes into him, Jughead's dick gets pushed into Reggie's fist, and Jughead thinks he could come from this, this sweet pleasure-pain; the sheer intimacy of Reggie surrounding him, inside and out.

And then Reggie finds his prostate, and Jughead fucking _whimpers_ , the pleasure almost too much to bear. 

“Told you,” Reggie mutters, pleased. 

He keeps fucking him, unerringly finding his prostate, making Jughead whimper and moan, completely helpless to do anything than just scrabble at the tiles and take it – take Reggie's thick cock fucking him, his hand skillfully jerking his dick in counterpoint with his thrusts.

When Reggie comes, it's a surprise. One second he's fucking into him, then his rhythm wavers and he groans, and Jughead realizes that he's _coming_ , can almost feel Reggie filling him up with his jizz.

He pulls out quickly, making Jughead hiss a little at the sudden emptiness, but he doesn't have time to feel disappointed, because Reggie turns him around so quickly that Jughead almost feels dizzy with it, and then he's sinking down on his knees in front of him, sucking Jughead's hard dick into his mouth, pushing rough fingers into his ass, pressing down on his prostate, and Jughead _shatters_ , his orgasm washing over him like a wave, Reggie swallowing every drop.

Jughead's glad Reggie's strong, because his legs buckle underneath him from the force of his orgasm, Reggie the only thing holding him up. 

Once Jughead's legs have stopped shaking, Reggie gets up from his kneeling position on the floor.

Jughead stares at him, words being a bit beyond him at this point.

“That good, huh?” Reggie says, and kisses him, sweet and smug in equal measures, which sums him up pretty well, Jughead thinks.

He's still feeling a little shaky, and his ass feels strangely sore, but he doesn't regret anything, not even the lack of condoms. Reggie's probably clean, he decides. The girls at Riverdale High know better than letting anyone raw them; especially after what happened to sweet, stupid, Polly Cooper. He wouldn't mind doing it again, either, although maybe not today, he thinks, wincing a little.

They get cleaned up, and then they just chill on the couch for the rest of the day. They do end up playing _Smash Bros_ , Reggie absolutely annihilating him, and Jughead calls him out on his ledge-guarding and the total bitch move of maining Bayonetta, and it's _fun_ and easy.

Reggie gives him a blowjob – to shut him up, he claims, but Jughead thinks he just enjoys it. Says as much too, enjoying winding him up, enjoys it even more when Reggie wrestles him down in retaliation, rubs off between his thighs as the _Smash Bros_ player select music blares from the TV.

Sunday morning comes too soon. Reggie gives him a ride home, kissing him in the car outside Jughead's house, and Jughead hopes his parents aren't watching from the window, because he knows they'd be insufferable about it.

On Monday, Riverdale High is all abuzz with the news that they're gonna merge with Southside High. 

There's no real consensus on _why_. Some say it's because all their teachers are drug dealers, some say it's because the school is the battle field for an outright gang war, and some say it's because the school is a rat-infested hellhole. Some say it's all three.

Whatever the reason, Southside High is not long for this world, and its sister school begins it's hurried preparations to deal with the influx of new students. 

In the middle of all this chaos, Betty talks Jughead into joining the welcoming committee.


	2. /you may ask yourself, am I right, am I wrong?/

It's him and Betty, Trev, and Kevin, standing in front of a table in the middle of the hallway, putting on their best smiles and preparing to welcome the deluge of Southsiders.

Betty really does look like the poster girl for wholesome Americana, standing next to Trev, who's doing a pretty good job at it himself. 

Kevin's smile is a little more anxious than wholly genuine, but he's still exuding wholesomeness. Which is funny, Jughead thinks, because he knows for a fact that Kevin was giving Moose Mason a hand-job in the showers not 30 minutes ago.

Jughead feels out of place, and he silently questions Betty's judgment in making him a part of this. Shouldn't Riverdale High be represented by its best and brightest? The shining paragons of virtue? The Bettys, the Trevs, the Kevins; not sardonic and gawky Jughead Jones.

And then _they_ enter, and it's like something out of a movie; a large group of teens in leather jackets, ripped jeans, and flannels, all striding down the hallway like they own it.

They're led by a trio of particularly good-looking kids; a short girl with pink highlights in her hair, a movie-star handsome boy, and, leading the pack, a tall, smirking boy with dark eyes.

“Welcome to Riverdale High,” Betty chirps at them, before introducing herself and the others in their group.

“I know it can't be easy to transfer in the middle of the term like this, but we will try to make this transition as smooth as possible for you.”

She goes on describing the enrollment process, and Jughead takes the opportunity to study the new arrivals a little closer. 

The vibe is more positive than he expected. He thought the Southsiders would be resentful, having had their school shut down on them with so little warning. He supposes _Southside High_ might actually have been as terrible as the rumors claimed.

The Southsiders are looking around, nudging their friends, _smiling_ , and doing a piss-poor job of living up to the popular view of them as though, hardened thugs.

Well, with one possible exception, Jughead acknowledges, his gaze being drawn to the apparent leader. He looks tough and mean, and the beat-up leather jacket only adds to the bad boy vibe. He rolls his eyes as Betty talks about school unity and togetherness, giving her a bored look and then dragging his insouciant gaze over Trev, Kevin, and, finally, Jughead.

Their eyes meet, Jughead's analytical and curious, and his frank and appraising.

The air feels charged between them, and, startled, Jughead averts his eyes, looks over at the girl standing next to the giant instead.

She's smirking at her friend now, looking a little like she's dying to tease him over something. 

When she catches Jughead watching her, she winks at him, and, mortified, Jughead decides to focus on the rest of Betty's speech instead.

He doesn't see Reggie until lunch break, when he nosily sits down next to him in the cafeteria, putting down his tray with so much force he almost spills his coke. 

“I can't believe we have to share our school with that Southside _scum_ ,” he growls, and Jughead looks around anxiously, hoping that none of the new students are close enough to hear.

“They seemed pretty nice to me,” he offers, remembering how honestly grateful most of them seemed to be for the welcome. He tries not to think too much about the tall, dark-eyed boy, who seemed to share Reggie's feelings about their schools integrating.

Reggie snorts. 

“Yeah, you're not the one who has to share a basketball team with a gangbanger,” he says, reaching over to steal one of the fries from Jughead's plate.

“You're lucky I like you,” Jughead remarks, raising his eyebrow at the offense, and Reggie's scowl is replaced by a teasing smile. 

“I'm the light of your life, and you know it, Jones,” he says, reaching out for another fry. 

This time Jughead is ready for him, and he slaps his hand away before Reggie can abscond with more of his loot.

There's a glint in Reggie's eyes that have him a little worried, but before the situation can escalate into an all out food-fight, Betty appears at their table, plopping down her tray next to Jughead's.

“No flirting in the cafeteria,” she says, biting back a smile as Reggie blows her an obnoxious air kiss and Jughead rolls his eyes.

“Thank you so much for helping out this morning,” she says, turning her bright smile on Jughead. “I think it really helped to make them feel welcome.”

“I don't know,” Jughead says, honestly, “you guys would have managed just fine without me. I was just-” he waves his hand in the air, searching for the right words, “-standing there like an unfriendly mannequin.”

Betty's smile dims a little at his self deprecation. 

“You know that's not true, Juggie.” 

She brightens up a little. “As a matter of fact, Toni asked about you.”

That has Reggie sitting up straighter in his seat. “Tony, huh?” he says, reaching over to grab yet another one of Jughead's fries. “You gonna step out on me, Jones?”

Jughead can feel himself frown, both at the action, and the display of possessiveness.

“Toni is a girl,” Betty says, “and I don't think she meant it like that.”

She looks thoughtful, clearly thinking back to what was said. “She wanted to know about your name.”

Jughead has to grin at that.

“It tends to be a sticking point for most people,” he says. The double-takes it garners him get old after a while, but it's still better than the real thing. What were his parents _thinking_?

“She didn't care about _that_.” Betty says. “She was more curious about your last name.”

“Jones?” Reggie snorts. “Bet she's never heard that one before.”

Jughead doesn't say anything, but there's a suspicion brewing inside him. He thinks of his parents' murky pasts, about the leather jackets they still keep in the attic; leather jackets that match the ones the Southside kids were wearing. He wonders if the Southside kids might spell trouble after all.

~*~

After a couple of weeks, he admits to himself that one particular Southside kid definitely does: the tall one, who Jughead has learned is called Sweet Pea.

Jughead would accuse him of stalking him, but that's not really fair. It's like they're drawn together by magnets, ending up hovering on the edges of each others social circles. Sweet Pea watches him, with too much intent to be wholly innocent, but Jughead is looking right back at him, even if it always makes him feel a stab of guilt. He's with Reggie, for fuck's sake. 

Reggie notices the weird vibe between them too. He keeps _touching_ him, in a way he didn't before. Arm stretched around Jughead's shoulders and playing with his hair when they sit on the couch together in the student lounge, draping himself along Jughead's back when he's standing by his locker and talking with Toni, Sweet Pea leaning against the wall nearby.

It's the latter incident which causes Sweet Pea to push himself up to his full height and roll his eyes with disgust.

“Jeeze, Mantle,” he says. “Why don't you just pee on him if you're that territorial.”

“Fuck off, pea-brain,” Reggie says, which, _real original_.

“Original,” Sweet Pea says, scoffing a little, and Jughead startles, feeling caught out. He glances up and meets his dark and scornful eyes.

“See you later, Mantle, Serpent Prince.” He shoots them a smirk over his shoulder and then he swaggers off down the hall, people moving to the sides when he pass by, like he's Moses crossing the Red Sea.

“Unbelievable,” Toni mutters, and then she gives Jughead an apologetic smile.

“Ignore him,” she advises, but it still nags at him, even as Reggie mutters something about them planning to.

'Serpent Prince', he called him, and he keeps doing it, smirking at Jughead like it's a dare every single time.

Finally, he's had enough.

He spots the three of them together in the lounge one day; Sweet Pea, Toni and their friend Fangs, and walks up to them.

They look at ease, just three high school kids talking on a couch, getting a chance to relax in between classes, and he's a bit wary of disturbing them, but it's _important_.

Sweet Pea notices him first.

He somehow slouches even further down among the pillows, as if to really make sure Jughead knows he's relaxed, and like clock-work, it comes. “What can we do for you, Serpent Prince?”

“Why do you call me that?” Jughead asks, lifting his chin in challenge. His hands are clenched into fists at his side, and he wishes he wasn't wearing the forest green Abercrombie sweater his mom got him for his birthday. It makes him feel uncomfortably bougie next to the Southsiders' plaid and leather.

Sweet Pea smiles a little meanly at him, while Toni and Fangs look on impassively. Too late, Jughead realizes he could have just asked Toni about the nickname. She probably even would have told him.

“Why don't you ask your daddy?” Sweet Pea says instead, all casual-sounding, and Jughead feels about two feet tall all of a sudden. 

“I don't think he'd answer,” he says, hoping his honesty will make Sweet Pea's take pity on him.

“Try,” he suggests, and then, softer, “I didn't peg you for a coward, Jones.”

Jughead isn't a coward, is the thing, and on the way home from school he mulls it over. He has his suspicions of what it all means, but he needs confirmation. He wonders if either of his parents are willing to give it.

He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he's not really paying attention to Archie, who's walking next to him, talking about something either involving a) music, b) girls, c) football, or, d) all of the above.

“Dude,” Archie finally says, punching him lightly on his shoulder to get his attention. “What has got you so moody?”

He looks a little nervous all of a sudden, leaning in, as if sharing a secret. “Trouble in paradise?” He raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Jughead realizes that Archie's talking about Reggie. He feels guilty all over again for _not_ thinking about him. Shouldn't his boyfriend be his number one priority?

“No,” Jughead reassures him, giving him a smile that he hopes doesn't look as shaky as it feels. “Just _Blue & Gold_ business.” 

As expected, Archie backs off at that. He cares about as much about the school newspaper as Jughead does about the Aquaholics.

Jughead waves him and his offer of a Fortnite battle off when they get to the Andrews house, and continues his trek home.

His mom and Jellybean are off somewhere, and Jughead vaguely recalls them talking about going shopping for new shoes for Jellybean's rapidly growing feet at breakfast, but his dad is home, whistling merrily as he chops up vegetables for dinner.

Jughead studies him in silence for a while, thinking – not for the first time – that his dad would cut an imposing figure in a gang jacket. He's fairly affable, as fathers go, but Jughead knows he's got an edge to him, the same as his mom does.

Finally, his dad looks up from his work and notices him standing at the other end of the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Jug,” he calls out. “Didn't see you there.”

Jughead bites his lip and walks over to him.

“What are you making?” he asks, and his dad smiles a little. 

“Just a casserole,” he says. “Don't think your mom trusts me with anything more complicated than that.”

Jughead's lips twist in a small smile.

His dad gives him a closer look, and puts down the knife on the cutting board.

“Anything you want to talk about?” he asks, a concerned wrinkle between his brows.

Jughead nods, not really sure how to get into it.

“It's not about your boyfriend, is it?” FP says, “because I've already given you the birds and the bees speech, and I'm not all that well-versed when it comes to the bees and the bees.” 

He offers an easy smile, effortlessly charming the way Jughead could never hope to be.

“It's not that,” Jughead admits.

“Dad,” he finally says. “Why is one of the Southside kids calling me the 'Serpent Prince'?”

There's a beat of silence as his dad seems to draw in on himself.

“You shouldn't hang around with those kids,” he finally says, almost sounding angry about it. He picks up the knife again, starts hacking at the finely chopped onion. “They're trouble.”

“They're just kids,” Jughead says, feeling a bit defiant about it, because they've never lived up to their reputation as thugs. Not even Sweet Pea, who seems to revel in making Northsiders uncomfortable.

“They're still trouble,” his dad says, pointing at him with the knife before he realizes what he's doing and slams it down on the counter with a growl.

He wipes his hands on his jeans, and then he walks over to Jughead and grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him a little. 

“I don't want you hanging around that crowd, you hear?” he says, getting right in his face about it, dark eyes wild and almost a little manic, thick finger so close to Jughead's face that it practically touches his nose.

Jughead already has a denial on his lips, but his dad interrupts him. 

“Stay away from the Southsiders, boy,” he growls. “You've got something good here, with your friends and your football player boyfriend. Don't let it go to shit just because you're _curious_.”

He almost spits out the word, before roughly pushing Jughead away. 

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” he says, like nothing has happened, and Jughead knows their conversation is over.

~*~  
He gets a ride to school with Reggie in the morning. He keeps telling him that it's dumb for him to take the trouble since they practically live on opposite sides of town, but Reggie just rolls his eyes at him. 

“Would it make you feel better if I hit you up for gas money?” he finally asks, and Jughead is tempted to say yes just to make him sputter.

“I'm on the track team, remember?” he says instead, smiling a little, because it _is_ thoughtful of Reggie to make the drive just for him. “I'm pretty sure I can handle a walk.”

Reggie rolls his eyes at him.

“Whatever, princess,” he says.

“People seem to want to treat me like royalty lately,” Jughead mumbles, giving the glove compartment a distracted tap. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Reggie shoots him a suspicious look from the corner of his eye, and Jughead practically bites his tongue. _Stupid_.

“Nothing,” he says, trying to not sound like he's placating him. “You've just been uncharacteristically chivalrous lately.”

“That nerd speak for 'nice'? Because I can be nice.” 

Reggie wiggles his eyebrows. “Give me a chance and I can show you how nice I can be right now.”

“As tempting as that offer is, we have class in-” Jughead looks pointedly at the clock on the dashboard, “-less than ten minutes.” 

“Rain check then,” Reggie decides, and Jughead reaches over and puts his hand on his thigh.

“After school,” he says, licking his lip a little, “and I'll show you that I can be nice too.”

At school, he keeps an eye out for Sweet Pea, and he finally gets a chance to corner him before second period social studies. 

Sweet Pea is standing by his locker, getting his books out, when Jughead accosts him. It's an incongruous sight, this tall boy in a gang jacket with a neck tattoo, juggling a history textbook, a legal pad and what appears to be a pink marker in his hands, and it makes Jughead bite back a smile.

“I talked to dad,” he says, no preamble, and Sweet Pea raises an eyebrow at him.

“What did he say?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious about it. 

“He told me to keep away from you,” Jughead says, simply. 

Sweet Pea nods, lips pressed tightly together. “Are you going to?”

“Should I?” he asks in return. 

Sweet Pea smirks and stalks closer to him, crowding him, really, but it doesn't really feel threatening. In fact, it makes him feel slightly breathless, looking up into his eyes. He's getting kind of obsessed with them, really; always so dark, hiding so much emotion.

The bell rings, and they don't get a chance to talk more right then, but Sweet Pea seems to warm up to him after that. He and Reggie still butts head over the dumbest shit, but he actually acts friendly around Jughead, like he's passed a test of some sort.

Jughead doesn't ask him about the nickname. He's pretty sure he's figured it out on his own. 

~*~

One day, when both his parents are out, he sneaks up to the attic and takes a closer look at their jackets; specifically at the emblems. A two-headed snake winds itself up the back of his dad's leathers, different from the single-headed snake insignia he's seen on anyone else. The fabric lining the inside of the jacket is different too – an eye-catching and vaguely threatening red.

He fingers the fabric thoughtfully, and overcome by some kind of insane impulse, he lifts the jacket from its hanger and shrugs it on. It's too big on him, not surprisingly, and the symbolism isn't lost on him.

He doesn't actually know a whole lot about the inner workings of the Serpents, and he's pretty sure Sweet Pea wouldn't tell him even if he asked, but he figures it's not outside the realm of possibility that their leader is called their _King_.

He wonders what it took for his parents to get out of their gang, or if they ever truly did. Can you just leave a gang like that? Jughead doubts it.

~*~

With his questions mostly answered, he should have no reason to hang around Sweet Pea or the other teen Serpents anymore, but he finds that he enjoys their company. They are just kids, just like he told his dad, but there's a hard edge to them that he finds vaguely comforting. It reminds him of home, he supposes.

He listens to Fangs describe the detailing work he's doing on his bike with one of the older Serpents, and apparently he can't quite hide his wistful sigh, because Toni pauses in carving her name on the table with her pocket knife and quirks and eyebrow at him.

“You ride, snowflake?” She asks him, surprised.

Jughead huffs out a laugh at that.

“No,” he admits, “my parents won't let me.”

It makes the other three teens snicker, and he says, hoping he doesn't sound too lame, “but I want to.”

“I could teach you,” Sweet Pea pipes up, surprising both Jughead and the others. 

Sweet Pea doesn't meet any of their eyes, instead paying careful attention to the signet ring he keeps twisting on his hand.

Jughead doesn't really know what to say to that. He appreciates the offer, he really does, but he has a strong feeling that Sweet Pea might be into him, and he doesn't want to give him the wrong idea. Doesn't really want to give himself the wrong idea either.

“I'll think about it,” he says, and Sweet Pea raises his head and gives him a smile.

~*~

Days later, Jughead's alone in the _Blue & Gold_ office, going over the layout for their next issue. It's basically a two-man operation, even if Ethel contributes with her book reviews every week, and today Betty's uncharacteristically late. 

He's trying to select which portrait to use for the faculty spotlight piece when Betty bursts in through the door, breathless.

“Juggie!” she exclaims, and Jughead whirls around, taking in the hectic flush on her cheeks, and the way her green eyes are flashing with some strong emotion.

“I think you need to see this,” she says, walking over to him with a notebook held in her hand.

He quirks an eyebrow at her, but accepts the book. 

Opening it, all he sees are names and numbers. 

“It's the football team's playbook,” Betty explains, voice quiet. “They use it to keep score of their conquests.”

Jughead shoots her a look over the book, a terrible suspicion building inside him.

Betty worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Ethel told me about it, and-”

Jughead studies the book closer. Now that he knows what he's looking at, it's pretty obvious. The left column is filled with guys' names, all members (former or current) of the football team. In the right column, there's row after row with girls' names, followed by a number, and sometimes a little additional commentary. “Ethel Muggs (7.5), big girl.” “Polly Cooper (9), shy, reserved, girl.”

He looks further down, and, there he is.

“Jughead Jones (7), fag.”

He closes the book and hands it back to Betty. It feels like the walls are closing in around him, and looking at Betty, her face filled with so much sympathy, makes him want to throw up.

“Oh, Juggie, I'm so sorry,” she says, and he's sorry too. She hugs him, and he hugs back, on instinct, but he's not really there. He can feel her breasts pressing against his chest, her soft hair against his cheek, but mentally he's miles away, like his mind is completely divorced from his body.

His only comfort is that he apparently only netted Reggie 7 points. It almost makes him wonder if it was even worth all the effort of getting into his pants.

“It's okay,” he tells Betty, but it's not. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says, and that he means. It hurts, like nothing has ever hurt before, but the idea of not knowing is worse. Of being the stupid, blind, hopelessly naive little toy that Reggie and his friends laughs about behind his back.

He extracts himself from the hug, forcing a smile on his face.

“Are you going to be okay?” Betty asks him, looking like she wants to _cry_.

“Sure,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It's not like it was serious anyway,” and then, thankfully, the bell rings, and Betty swears. He doesn't think he's ever heard her do that before.

“I have a test I can't miss. Talk to you later?”

“Sure,” he says, easily, but inside he's chanting _leave, leave, leave, leave_. “I have History class anyway. World War I.”

Betty presses a quick kiss to his cheek, and then she's off. Jughead watches her leave with no small sense of relief. He gets up and casually slouches to the door, _nothing to see here_ , locking it, and putting a chair under the door handle for good measure.

He feels like such an idiot. He knew going in that he was nothing to Reggie except an easy lay, and somehow he still, stupidly, started to believe that he actually had feelings for him. _Hah_! Like the local misfit could ever hope to inspire any kind of genuine feeling in Riverdale High's star jock.

He sinks down on the floor where he's standing, all his energy gone all of a sudden. He absolutely refuses to cry over that asshole, but his stupid useless tear-ducts have a different idea, and all he has to console himself with is that at least there are no witnesses, no one to see him cry silently like the useless little fag Reggie named him as.

Finally, there are no tears left. He feels empty, and cold, and miserable, but more than that, he feels _angry_. 

He dries his tears and his snot on the sleeve of his shirt, pettily glad that it's Reggie's favourite.

More than anything, he wants to hurt Reggie just as badly as he hurt him, but since Reggie doesn't care about him, he doesn't know how that will be possible.

What does Reggie care about? The Bulldogs, Jughead figures. His status, his looks. And, he thinks, he might not care about Jughead as a person, but he is possessive of him. He's always extra handsy whenever Sweet Pea is around, like he's trying to lay public claim on Jughead; really rub his nose in their relationship.

It comes to him then, the perfect way to hurt Reggie, at least a little.

That afternoon, he's waiting by Sweet Pea's bike when the final bell rings. 

“Hey, Serpent Prince,” Sweet Pea says, only raising his eyebrows a little at the sight of Jughead leaning against his bike.

“Hey,” Jughead says. He bites his lip, nervous now. Maybe all the flirting was just a game to Sweet Pea, and he'll laugh in his face, but Jughead's determined. 

“I was thinking,” he says, looking up at him from under his lashes, “about those bike lessons you offered?”

Sweet Pea grins at him, and it transforms his whole face, makes him look like someone Jughead would like to get to know for real.

“Yeah?” He sounds happy. It makes Jughead smile for what feels like the first time in hours.

“Are those still on the table?” Jughead asks. 

Sweet Pea walks over to him, cocky swagger in his step. 

“Your boyfriend cool with it?”

“No,” Jughead says, honest, because he want to be truthful to Sweet Pea, without getting too specific. He doesn't want his _pity_. “But he's not here, now is he?” 

“No,” Sweet Pea agrees, “he's not”. He gives Jughead a curious look, but he doesn't seem averse. 

He hands Jughead his helmet. “I have a spare one you can borrow, but we need to pick it up at my place.”

“That's cool,” Jughead says, pulling the helmet down on his head. It's a bit too big, honestly, and makes him feel a bit like a bobble-head doll.

He struggles a bit with the clasp, and to his surprise Sweet Pea brushes his hands away and clicks it close himself.

“It's a bit tricky,” he mumbles, and Jughead looks up at him, at the flirty look in his eyes and his soft mouth, and all his hesitance disappears. 

Sweet Pea takes a step back, and then he gets on his bike, scooting a bit forward to leave space for Jughead, and fiddling with the key.

Jughead gingerly climbs on behind him. 

“You'll need to hold on tight,” Sweet Pea tells him, and Jughead grabs hold of his waist, practically plastering himself along Sweet Pea's broad back. 

The motorcycle starts with a roar, and then they're off, the engine loud and powerful between his thighs, the wind strong and refreshing on his face. The whole experience is so unlike being in a car that it's unreal, and Jughead has to fight himself not to whoop. He can't seem to wipe the smile off his face though, and he tightens his arms around Sweet Pea, absurdly glad that he's here with him.

Jughead's never been to the Southside before. Somehow it's at once everything he expected, yet nothing like it. 

Sweet Pea steers his bike to a run-down and gloomy trailer park named Sunnyside, named by someone with a cruel sense of humor, Jughead assumes. He stops in front of one of the smaller trailers there, and Jughead realizes that Sweet Pea must live alone. He wonders what's happened to his family, but he's too afraid to ask.

Instead he quietly removes his borrowed helmet and hands it to Sweet Pea. 

“Home sweet home,” Sweet Pea says, a bit of a challenge in his voice. He's back to his old, prickly self, and Jughead realizes he's defensive, probably worried that Jughead is going to judge him.

“Have you always lived here?” Jughead asks, careful to keep his voice light.

“No,” Sweet Pea says, and that's the end of that. 

Jughead nods thoughtfully. “Is this where my parents lived, before?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sweet Pea says with a shrug. “I guess they never told you.”

“They never tell me anything,” he says. “They want to pretend that they've always been Northsiders.”

“Probably ashamed,” Sweet Pea says, and Jughead wonders if he's ashamed.

“They shouldn't be,” he says. “There's nothing to be ashamed about.”

Sweet Pea's gaze feels like a heavy weight on him. Assessing.

“Wanna come in, check the place out?” He finally asks, and Jughead feels like he's passed some kind of test. It's starting to become a theme with the two of them.

“Sure,” he says, and together they make their way to the trailer. The lock looks kind of rickety, but Jughead guesses the Serpent emblem painted on the side of the trailer acts as deterrent enough.

Sweet Pea enters first, turning on the light as he does so, sitting down on the bed and looking up at Jughead with an expectant look on his face.

Jughead carefully closes the door behind him and looks around the small trailer. He's curious and observant by nature, and he quickly takes in the large American flag that dominates the space, the clothing hung up on clothes-lines from the ceiling. It's humbling to be here, in a space he guesses not many Northsiders have ever been in. 

“It's homey,” he says, and he means it. It's shabby, and a little drafty, but it feels very lived-in. 

Sweet Pea looks a little nervous, and Jughead feels a wave of tenderness for him. He hides his insecurities well, but he's still human, just like the rest of them.

He also looks very attractive, with his hair mussed from the bike ride, a softer expression on his face than Jughead's used to seeing on him. 

He takes the few steps that brings him to Sweet Pea's bed, and, standing between Sweet Pea's knees, he puts one hand on Sweet Pea's shoulder, for balance, and bends down and kisses him. It's soft and closed-mouthed, and Sweet Pea sighs against his lips and gently brings his hand to Jughead's cheek, cradling his face carefully in his big hand.

They break the kiss naturally, and Jughead smiles at Sweet Pea. 

“I actually do want you to teach me how to ride a motorcycle,” he says, playing a little with the short hairs at the nape of Sweet Pea's neck, “but we don't have to go right now.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sweet Pea agrees easily, looking happy and soft and ridiculously handsome in the dim lighting. 

“Can I blow you?” Jughead asks. He wants a lot of different things, but right now he mostly just wants to make Sweet Pea feel good, keep him looking at him with that happy, almost awed look in his eyes.

Sweet Pea nods eagerly, hand going to his flies with record speed, and Jughead grins at the sight. It's nice feeling wanted.

He watches Sweet Pea open his jeans and push them down to his knees. He keeps his boxers on though, which Jughead gets. He's not even hard yet, and it's a vulnerable feeling being seen like that.

Jughead kisses him again, sinking down on his knees as he does so, feeling pleased when Sweet Pea bends down, unwilling to break the kiss.

He carefully puts his hand on Sweet Pea's dick, starts caressing it through the soft cotton of his underwear, until it twitches in his hand, growing hard under his touch. Sweet Pea keeps kissing him, his tongue demanding in his mouth, his hand sinking down in his hair, and he's briefly tempted to stay like that, make Sweet Pea come in his hand instead.

“You're distracting me,” he complains against Sweet Pea's mouth, and he huffs out a laugh.

“Don't let me keep you, Serpent Prince,” he says, sounding a little smug, and Jughead nips at his lip in warning before focusing on the dick in his hand. 

He tugs at the worn elastic of Sweet Pea's boxers, and, helpfully, Sweet Pea lifts his hips so Jughead can push them down over his thighs.

Sweet Pea's dick is bigger than Reggie's, Jughead notes with some degree of smugness. 

He takes hold of the base, circling it with his fingers, and then he licks his way up from the base to the puffy head. He's gotten pretty good at this since he first blew Reggie, and he puts all those hard-won skills to work now, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, bobbing his head and relaxing his throat so he can get all of Sweet Pea into his mouth. 

Sweet Pea grabs his hair, but he's careful about it, not pulling, just gentle fingers against his scalp. 

“You're so good at that,” he mumbles, pleasure-drunk, and Jughead doubles his efforts, bobbing up and down and, making his mouth as tight and wet as he can.

He catalogs all of his reactions, the way Sweet Pea moans when Jughead lets his cock slip from his mouth and suckles on his balls instead, his groan when he licks around the head, chasing the musky flavor of his precome, the way his fingers can't help but tug at his hair once he deep-throats him.

His favourite are the quiet little moans he teases out of him once he gets him close to the brink, and the way Sweet Pea can't seem to keep his eyes off him. Every time Jughead glances up, Sweet Pea is looking straight at him, hooded eyes seemingly tracing his every move.

“I'm gonna come,” Sweet Pea finally grunts, and Jughead hums around his dick in acknowledgment, looking forward to tasting him.

Sweet Pea is almost silent when he comes, just grunting quietly. Jughead wonders what it would take for him to be _loud_. He hopes he'll get to find out sometime.

He spurts in Jughead's mouth, salty and thick, and Jughead swallows it all, making sure to lick Sweet Pea's dick completely clean before letting it slip from his mouth. 

“Come here,” Sweet Pea says, and tugs lightly at his hair, until Jughead gets the hint and meets him in a kiss.

Sweet Pea hauls him up until he's straddling his lap, rubbing Jughead's hard-on through the fabric of his jeans, making him gasp into his mouth and thrust a little helplessly in search of _friction_.

“Your Northside boyfriend not giving what you need, huh?” Sweet Pea mumbles against his lips as he toys with the button of his Levis'. 

Jughead gives a broken moan, more at the sound of Sweet Pea pulling down his zipper than at his words, but Sweet Pea seems to take it as encouragement anyway.

“Don't worry,” he says, sounding a bit breathless now, “I'll take care of you.”

And finally, there is actual skin on skin contact, Sweet Pea wrapping his large hand around Jughead's dick, giving him a stroke from root to tip that has him tip his head forward, resting against Sweet Pea's strong shoulder as he pants.

Sweet Pea's other hand inches its way under his shirt, clutching at his back, and it feels so _good_ , being touched by him.

It hardly takes any time at all for Sweet Pea to get him off. Jughead's too worked up for that.

One second he's pushing up his hips, meeting Sweet Pea on a downstroke, the next there's electricity sparking along his spine and he's coming, his cock spurting over Sweet Pea's hand.

They don't end up going through with the bike lessons that day, but it becomes a standing appointment between the two of them.

Jughead really does get to ride Sweet Pea's bike, under Sweet Pea's careful tutelage, but that's not the only thing they do together. 

He feels guilty about it, because Reggie still acts like everything is normal between them, driving him to school and making out with him in abandoned corners of the hallway, but then he thinks about the play book, and it's suddenly so easy to accept Sweet Pea's touches, and to touch him back in turn.

Still, there's something stopping him from going all the way with Sweet Pea, be it loyalty or guilt, and he finds himself moving Sweet Pea's wandering hands away from his ass, fingers straying dangerously close to his crack, on more than one occasion, even though he knows that, logically, there's no real difference between pushing on Sweet Pea's shoulder until he gets the hint and sucks his dick, and letting him fuck him. 

It's still cheating.

Eventually he stops fighting it. He wants it, and Sweet Pea wants it, and there's really no use in pretending otherwise.

Sweet Pea is surprisingly gentle with him their first time, large hands careful on him, caging him in on the bed and sucking bruises on his chest as he fingers him, thick digits seeking out his prostate with unerring precision as Jughead tugs restlessly on his hair, gelled strands twisting around his fingers.

Faintly, Jughead is aware that leaving marks is a bad idea, but it feels _so good_ , and it's not like Reggie pays that much attention to his chest anyway. He probably could keep his shirt on around him for the next few days, no problem. 

“Sweet Pea,” he warns him, _whines_ really, but, unrepentant, Sweet Pea just grins against his skin, scraping his teeth over one peaked nipple and rumbling out a laugh.

“Mantle still doesn't know how to get you going, huh?” he says, and Jughead tosses his head in denial, even as Sweet Pea's fingers and mouth - _God_ , his _mouth_ \- make him feel weak with need.

He takes him to the brink of orgasm with just his fingers, not stopping to slick up his own dick until Jughead is a desperate mess, arching his back and failing to bite down on the embarrassingly needy whimpers that keep escaping his mouth.

“Look at me,” Sweet Pea orders him, voice soft but certain to be obeyed, and Jughead struggles to keep his heavy-lidded eyes focused on him.

“Yeah, that's good,” Sweet Pea says, “I want you to know who's fucking you.”

Like Jughead could forget, like he doesn't see him in his mind's eye every time his eyes flutter close; his broad chest and the hectic flush that's working itself down over it, his eyes that look so dark that they're almost black now, his thick thighs, sprinkled with dark hair, that are keeping Jughead's slimmer legs wide open for him. 

“I know it's you,” he reassures him, and Sweet Pea grins at him, all teeth. 

“Touch your nipples,” Sweet Pea suggests, sounding a little breathless about it, and Jughead does, twisting and pulling on them as Sweet Pea slowly pushes inside him, relishing the way the pain mixes with the sweet glide of Sweet Pea's cock _finally_ claiming him. He's so big, stretching him more than even Reggie does, but Sweet Pea did such a thorough job working him open that it doesn't hurt. 

They moan in unison when Sweet Pea finally bottoms out, his scratchy pubic hair brushing against Jughead's ass, Jughead's hole twitching around his cock.

Sweet Pea's hand seeks out his cock as he fucks him, jerking Jughead off in time with his thrusts, and it's almost _too_ much, getting this much pleasure at once.

Sweet Pea bends down, sucking at his chin, his throat, and Jughead moans. 

“Tell me I'm better than Mantle,” Sweet Pea grunts against his neck, “say I'm the best you've ever had,” and Jughead doesn't even hesitate when he breathes out a “yes”. 

“More,” Sweet Pea demands, giving him a particularly hard thrust, practically fucking Jughead into the headboard.

“You feel so good inside me,” Jughead moans, somehow beyond embarrassment. Maybe Sweet Pea fucked it right out of him. “I love your cock, I love-”

Sweet Pea practically _roars_ at that, hips stuttering a little. He gives Jughead's dick one final tug, and Jughead's eyes roll back as his orgasm washes over him, fireworks bursting behind his eyelids.

Sweet Pea fucks into him again, and then he's coming too, groaning as he empties himself inside Jughead, practically collapsing on top of him when he's done.

Jughead works his hands out from under the heavy weight of him, caressing his back as Sweet Pea catches his breath. He can feel him soften inside him, and when he slips out there's a wet sticky feeling that is equal parts hot and terrifying.

Too late, he realizes they didn't use a condom.

Weirdly, his first thought is that his mom would _kill_ him if she knew.

“Shit,” he says, afterglow effectively gone.

Sweet Pea raises his head up and looks at him, quizzical and bleary-eyed, hair standing on end.

“We didn't use a condom,” Jughead explains, and then, just so Sweet Pea won't freak out, “but it's probably okay, right?” 

Sweet Pea smiles lazily at him, lifting himself up on his forearms so he's perched above Jughead's body. 

“I'm clean,” he says, simply, and then he grimaces. “Only question is if _Mantle_ is,” and Jughead feels _stricken_. He didn't even think about that.

Sweet Pea must notice his apprehension, because he reaches for Jughead's face, tracing his moles like a caress. 

“It's okay,” he soothes him. “I'll go to the free clinic tomorrow, just to make sure, but it's probably fine.” 

He smiles, and leans closer to his face. “It's kind of hot. Knowing I filled you up with my cum.”

Jughead can feel himself blush. It's so _filthy_. 

“I should make you walk home like this,” Sweet Pea says, tracing his lips with his finger, and, despite himself, Jughead's cock twitches at the thought.

Sweet Pea notices, judging by the wicked edge to his smile. 

“Wonder what Mantle would think,” he says, “if he picked you up in his Beamer and you were still dripping with it. If he knew his boyfriend was taking it up the ass from a Southsider.”

There's a dark edge to the teasing. “Sweet Pea,” Jughead says. He bites his lip, the guilt washing over him again.

It's not right what he's doing, he knows that. It's not fair to Reggie or Sweet Pea. It feels like this stopped being about revenge a long time ago, if it ever really was. He could just have dumped Reggie when he first found out. Done it publicly even, made him lose face among his friends. That would have been revenge enough. 

This? This is just being greedy.

The guilt is still not enough to make him _stop_ , and he wonders, feeling a bit hysterical, when the other shoe is finally going to drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest story I've ever written, and it's not even done yet. Mad respect to the people who can churn out 100 K epics. I haven't even reached 20 K yet, and I still feel like JRR Tolkien. :D


	3. /you may say to yourself, my god, what have I done?/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just pure filth.

It's only fitting that it ends with a party.

Reggie's parents have planned to be gone for a whole week this time, so Reggie decides it's the perfect time to throw a un-birthday bash (his words, not Jughead's).

Things have been a little distant between him and Reggie lately, but Reggie still makes it clear that he expects him to be there.

Jughead arrives early, and helps Reggie set up. They make out in the kitchen while Dilton Doiley tinkers with the sound system, something urgent and frenzied about it. Like they both know it can't last.

In a weird mirroring of their first time together, Reggie accidentally spills his rum and coke all over his polo shirt, and he swears and makes Jughead promise that he'll welcome any early guests while he gets changed.

A few people show up at the door, more Reggie's friends than his, but he invites them in and chats with them while they wait for their host, putting all his hard-won social skills to the test.

When Reggie returns downstairs, he's looking sleek and sexy in a black t-shirt coupled with black jeans, and Jughead watches him cross the room, the undisputed king of his domain, and feels a guilty thrill of arousal, despite everything.

More guests start to arrive, first a few at a time, and then in droves, and Jughead thinks it was smart of Reggie to do this now when he has a whole week to restore the house to its original order.

It feels like the whole school is here, but he supposes it's just the people that _matters_. Which include him, somehow.

He and Reggie get separated, and he wanders around for a while, just people-watching. 

He sees Sweet Pea in the living room, his black leather jacket standing out among all the varsity jackets, but Jughead's pretty sure he'd recognize that broad back and gel-slicked dark hair anyway.

Their eyes meet across the crowded room, and Sweet Pea raises an eyebrow in question. 

_Yes_ , Jughead thinks, it's time.

He's talked it over with Sweet Pea, and he can't go on like this anymore. It's not fair to any of them. 

He's just been too much of a coward to to talk with Reggie.

Jughead waits until the party is winding down, just some of Reggie's actual friends remaining, scattered about in small groups in the living room and kitchen.

“Think we can talk? he asks, and Reggie narrows his eyes at him, considering.

“My room,” he finally says. 

He keeps his hand at the small of Jughead's back their entire walk up the stairs, and Jughead feels uncomfortably aware of what he has to do.

“I think we should end it,” he rushes to say the second Reggie closes the door behind them, almost tripping over the words.

Reggie gives him a hard look.

“Do you think I'm an idiot?” Reggie demands.

“I know you've been fucking around with that Southside piece of shit.”

Jughead can practically feel the blood draining from his face.

“You knew?” he says. He feels like the walls are closing in on him.

“Moose fucking saw you make out with him last week,” Reggie says, and Jughead thinks back, and, yeah, they usually kept any physical interaction to Sweet Pea's trailer, but there was that one time in the alley behind _Pop's_ , when they just couldn't wait the ten minutes it would have taken them to ride back to the Southside. _Stupid, so stupid_.

“I-” Jughead says, bringing his hand to his mouth.

“What I don't get,” Reggie interrupts him, “is why you just couldn't be a man about it. Tell me to my face instead of making me learn about it from fucking _Moose_.”

“I know about the play-book!” Jughead shouts. “Betty showed me. That's why I-”

“That's not an excuse!” Reggie exclaims. “Yes I did something shitty, but then you fucking confront me about it. You don't sleep around behind my back!”

“I thought I was just an easy lay anyway,” Jughead says, defensive now, “just a dumb little fag worth seven points.”

“You're not, okay? It was never about that. I just. I liked you, you idiot.”

“Oh,” Jughead says, feeling very small all of a sudden.

Reggie looks seriously at him.

“I know it was an asshole move, putting you in the book like that,” he says, “but I didn't mean it.”

He shrugs his shoulders in a 'what can you do' gesture.

“It's just something that's expected of you. Everyone does it.”

It's not an excuse, Jughead wants to tell him, but he's painfully aware that he doesn't have the high ground here. In fact, if his life was a _Star Wars_ movie, he'd be Anakin Skywalker lying with his limbs cut off in the lava right now.

“I'm sorry,” Jughead finally says, “I was angry at you, but you still didn't deserve that.” 

The words taste like ashes on his tongue.

“You know, I think I deserve a little something for putting up with this,” Reggie says, smirking a little at him, and Jughead stares at him in disbelief. 

“You can't be serious,” he says. 

“Break-up sex is a thing,” Reggie defends himself. “And you owe me one.”

“I thought you were angry at me,” Jughead says, which isn't a denial, but he's always been weak for Reggie.

“That just makes it better,” Reggie says. 

He takes a couple of steps closer, crowds him a little, and then he's kissing him, practically fucking his mouth with his tongue, his hands deliciously rough on Jughead's waist.

It's a terrible idea, but Jughead still kisses back, winding his own hands in Reggie's hair. He does owe Reggie for the way he's treated him, and Sweet Pea doesn't have to find out, does he?

It's Reggie who breaks their kiss, nipping a little at the sensitive skin under his ear and then murmuring, “why don't you go clean yourself out, and the two of us can have our own little party up here.”

It makes Jughead blush and avert his eyes to hear him be so brazen about it. 

“C'mon,” Reggie coaxes him, grabbing his hand and bringing it to his crotch, letting him trace Reggie's hard dick through the denim.

“You know you want this dick,” Reggie says, grinding into his hand, and his self-assured swagger makes Jughead want to be contrary. 

“Why don't I fuck you instead,” he suggests, raising his eyebrow at him, trying to sound confident, but failing, judging by Reggie's laugh.

Reggie snakes a hand behind him and squeezes his ass, making Jughead jump a little.

He kisses his forehead, and it's a magnificently condescending gesture, and Jughead resents the hell out of finding it a little hot.

“We both know you're the bottom in this relationship,” he says, and nudges him in the direction of his bathroom, and Jughead should definitely refuse him, but maybe it's better this way? Maybe this is the kind of conversation that will be easier once they're both mellow from a good fuck (and maybe Jughead is just a lying bastard who really just wants to fuck Reggie one last time before they break up for good).

So he goes to the bathroom, and he uses the enema bulb he's stored there (because the thought of keeping it anywhere where his own parents could find it makes him break out in a cold sweat). It's not the greatest feeling in the world, but as far as he's concerned it's just a necessary preclude to something a whole lot better.

He has a hard time meeting his own eyes in the mirror as he washes his hands. 

“Slut,” he mouths to his reflection. 

He doesn't look like a slut, in his blue sweater and white shirt, he doesn't think, but he definitely feels like one. 

When he walks back into Reggie's room, Reggie isn't alone. 

Sweet Pea is sitting on his bed, raising his hand in a sarcastic greeting when Jughead enters.

Jughead has had nightmares like this.

“Sweet Pea!” he exclaims, sounding exactly as guilty as he feels, “what are you doing here?”

 _Oh god_ , he thinks, _does he know what I was doing in there_?

Reggie's standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, chin raised and his whole body radiating tension. 

“I invited him,” he says. He tosses his hair. “Since one man apparently isn't enough for you.”

Jughead feels cold all over, his eyes darting between Reggie, unrepentant and combative, and Sweet Pea, lazily amused.

“And you accepted?” Jughead asks, waving his arm at Sweet Pea, not bothering to hide his agitation. 

Sweet Pea shrugs. “I was just gonna fight him,” he says, and Jughead blanches. 

“Seemed like the only way out of this,” he says. 

“You don't have to fight!” Jughead says. It feels like he's taking crazy pills. Trying to keep his voice level, he adds, “Reggie and I are breaking up. No fighting necessary.”

“It's a pride thing,” Reggie says, “you wouldn't understand.”

“I understand that you're an asshole,” Jughead says.

It makes Sweet Pea smile, and Jughead smiles back at him, charmed in spite of himself.

“We were gonna fight,” Sweet Pea says, “but then we started thinking. What are we fighting about?”

“Nothing,” Jughead says, a little desperately.

“It comes down to manhood,” Sweet Pea says, getting up from his place on the bed, “and we decided that there's a better way of settling this.” 

“This is insane,” Jughead says. 

“It's perfect,” Reggie counters. “I get to prove I'm better than this piece of Southside trash in every way possible, and you get us both. Win-win.”

 _This is getting out of hand_ , Jughead thinks. 

He's not sure how he expected the night to end, but it wasn't with Reggie and Sweet Pea getting into a game of sexual upmanship with him in the middle.

“I'm not sure this is such a good idea,” he says, but he's brought it on himself, hasn't he?

Reggie seems to think so, at least, impatiently waving away Jughead's concerns.

“Should have thought about that before you decided to be a slut,” he scoffs, and Jughead can feel himself flush, angry and embarrassed and - most of all - guilty.

“He wouldn't have slept with me if you'd been man enough for him,” Sweet Pea says, smirking at Reggie, and maybe it's meant in defense of him, and maybe it's not, but it's definitely not helpful to the situation at hand. 

It makes Reggie take a threatening step closer to Sweet Pea, squaring up against him, Jughead pushed to the side like he doesn't even matter. 

Sweet Pea glares back at him, hands already clenched into fists, and Jughead realizes that the only way he can prevent a blood bath from occurring is to agree to this, this _game_ of theirs.

“Fine!” he decides, shouting so loudly that he manages to get both the bigger boys' attention back to himself.

“I'll do it,” he says, in a calmer tone, “as long as you promise not to fight.”

Reggie and Sweet Pea look at each other, considering. 

“What are the terms?” Sweet Pea asks, tilting his head. 

It's a reasonable question, Jughead thinks. He's been wondering that himself.

“I don't want him after this, if that's what you're worried about,” Reggie says, brushing some invisible lint from his t-shirt.

“I have some pride after all.” 

It makes Jughead flinch, hearing Reggie talk about him like he's nothing, but he supposes it's what he deserves. 

Reggie gives Sweet Pea a disdainful look. “But I suppose Southside scum like yourself has to settle for sloppy seconds.”

Jughead's half-afraid they'll start fighting after all, but Sweet Pea just smirks at Reggie. 

“With a pencil-dick like yours, it doesn't make much of a difference,” he says, showing his teeth, and Jughead wants to die.

 _I deserve this_ , he keeps telling himself. _I made this happen_.

“Consider this a favor then, Sweet Pea,” Reggie says, voice airy. “Maybe you'll even learn a thing or two.”

It would be so easy to walk away from the two of them, leaving them to their alpha male posturing, but though he knows neither of them would stop him, he also know that any blood that will be spilled will be on his hands.

It's better this way. Safer. 

“Let's do it then,” he says, proud that his voice isn't shaking. He clumsily removes his sweater, letting it fall in a careless heap on the floor. 

Two pairs of dark eyes turn to watch him.

“First to make him beg?” Sweet Pea suggests.

“Like that's hard,” Regge counters. “First to make him scream?”

Sweet Pea scoffs. “Might as well accept defeat right now,” he says.

“Wouldn't that give the first person an unfair advantage?” Jughead says, cursing his own stupidity the second the words have left his mouth.

“Unless you're using a timer,” he hastens to add, but he can tell by the glint in both their eyes that it's too late. 

“Most amount of orgasms,” Reggie says.

Sweet Pea nods, adding, “we'll trade off.” He smiles. “You can go first; home field advantage.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. _Jocks_.

“Watch and learn,” Reggie says, and saunters up to Jughead. 

“Gonna miss this mouth,” he mumbles, cradling Jughead's face in his large hands, tilting his head up a little. 

Jughead hates himself for it, but he still shivers at his touch, those hands too familiar to leave him unaffected even at a time like this. Reflexively, his own hands wind up at Reggie's waist, clutching the fabric of his designer tee in his hands as Reggie finally leans down and kisses him.

Jughead's mouth opens for his tongue with very little coaxing, and he can feel himself sinking into the gentle pleasure of it, even with Sweet Pea watching them impatiently from the side-lines. 

He chances a glance in his direction, and can see him scowling at them with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

It makes him gasp into Reggie's mouth, and he feels Reggie smirk against his lips in response. 

Reggie's hands move gently from his face and down his neck, going to work on his shirt, unbuttoning one button after another, until the shirt hangs loosely off his shoulders. 

Jughead shrugs it off, and then he's standing bare-chested in front of Reggie, shivering a little in the cold air from the AC.

Reggie takes in the sight of him, something dark and ugly flickering over his expression.

He reaches out and pokes Jughead, right under his nipple, making him wince. _Right, Sweet Pea and his hickeys_. 

The philosophical part of Jughead's brain considers how much quicker Reggie would have found out if he paid as much attention to Jughead's chest as Sweet Pea does.

“I can't believe you let him mark you, you little whore,” Reggie mumbles, pressing harder at the bruise. 

“I'm sorry,” Jughead says, eyes downcast. 

“No, you're not, “Reggie says, chuckling a little. “Sorry you got caught, maybe,” and there's a denial on Jughead's lips, but he never have a chance to voice it before Reggie swoops down and kisses him again, stealing the words from his mouth and the air from his lungs.

There is one rough hand squeezing his ass, and another nimbly working on the button fly of his jeans, and then those same hands are roughly pushing the fabric down his legs, getting it caught around his knees. 

He swears, and Reggie swears, and it startles a soft laugh out of both of them, the look in Reggie's eyes softening just a little. It makes Reggie kiss him again, even, just a soft peck on his lips, not trying to punish him or prove anything. 

Jughead will miss this. It was never gonna last, but maybe it didn't have to end quite as ugly as it did.

He doesn't have time to feel ridiculous about standing naked with his pants around his ankles in the middle of Reggie's bedroom, because Reggie hardly pauses before he's pushing him back towards the bed, not stopping until Jughead can feel the mattress hitting the back of his knees. 

He sits down on the unmade bed almost on auto-pilot, and Reggie goes down on his knees in front of him, tugging his shoes and socks off before dragging off his jeans completely.

There's a scraping sound, and Jughead looks up from Reggie's bent head and sees that Sweet Pea is dragging Reggie's desk chair closer to the bed. 

It's not a wholly comforting thought, to know that Sweet Pea is watching him and Reggie, knowing that Reggie will watch the two of them in turn, and Jughead feels more aware of his nudity than he ever has before.

“Watch and learn,” Reggie tells Sweet Pea with not a small amount of smugness.

He expertly works Jughead's cock with his hand, making it go from half-chub to fully hard. 

“You have such a cute little cock,” Reggie says as he gives him one last lingering stroke, a mocking glint in his eyes as he looks up at him. 

Jughead scowls, giving his hair a hard tug in revenge. His dick is smaller than Reggie's, just like he's smaller than Reggie in general, but it's still average size, thank you very much. 

“Little too late to start negging me now,” he says, trying to sound haughty and unaffected. He won't give Reggie the satisfaction of being hurt.

Reggie just snorts. He leaves his hand at the base of Jughead's dick and leans down, sucking the head into his mouth. 

It's good.

It's always good.

Reggie sucks dick like a man who loves it, working his jaw and tongue in equal measures. 

Jughead can't stop watching him, his eyes closed in bliss and his skilled mouth growing slicker and more swollen as he sucks. There's something so obscene about watching Reggie swallow around his dick, throat spasming around the head, and then pull off, a glistening thread of precome and spit still connecting Reggie's mouth to his dick. 

The sight of it makes him moan, and Reggie opens his eyes and smirks.

“Always so easy,” he says, his usual smug self, and his voice is _shot_ , and, _God_ , Jughead did that to him; it was his cock that made Reggie's voice hoarse.

He leans down again, opening his mouth, and Jughead has to close his eyes, the visual input just too much right now. 

It still doesn't take long for him to get lost in the feeling of Reggie's mouth on his dick, his fingers grasping Reggie's hair almost desperately. 

Reggie deep-throats him, and that's it, game over. He arches his back and comes in Reggie's mouth with a satisfied moan. 

Reggie pulls back, letting his softening dick fall from his mouth. Jughead struggles to open his eyes. It feels like his whole body is twitching with after-shocks. 

“One,” Reggie says, wiping his mouth with his hand and looking over at Sweet Pea, and, _fuck_ , Jughead had almost forgotten that this was supposed to be a contest. He groans and fall back on the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. 

Reggie pats his thigh, a little condescendingly. 

There's a pause when Reggie gets up from the floor, and then the bed dips next to him. Jughead lifts his arm from his face and shoots Reggie a questioning glance. 

“Want to get a closer look,” Reggie says, shameless about it. 

Sweet Pea stomps over to the bed, standing between Jughead's spread legs. 

“He needs any help he can get,” Sweet Pea says, smiling down at Jughead. He bends down, carding his hands gently through Jughead's hair, and then he's being kissed, Sweet Pea's agile tongue pushing into his mouth and tangling with his. 

Jughead kisses him back, hands going to Sweet Pea's hair without much thought, playing with the dark tresses even as Sweet Pea kisses his way down Jughead's neck, briefly stopping to suck a mark over his collarbone. 

It makes Jughead whimper and throw his head back. 

Next to him, Reggie scoffs, and Jughead opens one eye to glare at him. 

Sweet Pea spends a lot of time on Jughead's nipples, sucking on one, pinching and twisting the other, and, shamelessly, Jughead presses his chest up against his mouth, pushing at his head with his hands, encouraging him. 

He can feel that his dick is starting to fill again, and he pushes it against Sweet Pea's denim-clad thigh, wanting him to take the hint. 

“Nipple play, who knew?” Reggie says, sounding amused. 

Jughead growls at him in warning, but it morphs into a moan when Sweet Pea reaches down and cups his balls with one hand. He pinches a nipple with his other hand, his mouth nipping at the other. 

“Think you can make him come without touching his dick?” Reggie suddenly asks, sounding curious. 

“Hand me the lube and you'll find out,” Sweet Pea says, lifting his head from Jughead's chest and grinning at Reggie. 

“Like there's any challenge in _that_ ,” Reggie says, but he still climbs off the bed to rifle through his bathroom cabinet. 

Sweet Pea doesn't actually wait for him to return. 

“Maybe for the next one,” he mumbles, and then he sits down on his knees, pressing a distracted kiss on Jughead's knee before he coaxes him to rest his legs on his broad and leather-clad shoulders. 

Jughead lifts his upper body, looking curiously at him. 

“Prepared to have your mind blown?” Sweet Pea asks, winking at him. 

“I thought you were already doing that,” Jughead says. 

It makes Sweet Pea smile widely at him, and, again, Jughead is taken aback at how _beautiful_ he looks like this, happy and care-free. 

He smiles, he fears a bit goofily, and then Sweet Pea takes careful hold of the base of his dick and sucks him down, and Jughead's goofy smile morphs into a slack-jawed moan instead. 

It's a struggle not to pull at Sweet Pea's hair, but he manages. 

“Hey, I thought you weren't gonna touch his dick,” Reggie complains. He throws himself down on the bed next to Jughead again, brandishing the lube in his hand. 

Sweet Pea doesn't say anything, but he slurps his way off Jughead's dick, making his way down to his balls instead. He licks at them, and then he takes them into his mouth, making Jughead's dick slap wetly against his cheek in the process. 

He gives them one last lick, and then he pauses, and Jughead barely has time to wonder what he's up to before he feels Sweet Pea's tongue at his asshole. 

He squeaks, there's no other word for it, and Sweet Pea sniggers, the puff of air from his nose feeling very weird in such an intimate place. 

“Okay?” Sweet Pea asks, and Jughead bites his lip, considers it. He's never even seen rimming outside of porn before, but if Sweet Pea is okay with it, he sees no reason to refuse. 

“Yeah,” he says, and Sweet Pea grips his hips in his strong hands, and _hauls_ , making Jughead's ass hang half-way off the bed. 

This time Jughead's squeak is one of dismay. 

“I've got you,” Sweet Pea reassures him, and then there's his tongue again, licking around the edge of his asshole. 

It does feel good, the flat of Sweet Pea's tongue passing over his hole. He sighs, can feel himself relax into it, even if he feels like an idiot with his ass in the air like this. 

The first time Sweet Pea licks _into_ him, making his tongue to a point, Jughead moans quietly. 

The second time, he's louder. 

Sweet Pea pulls out, nips at his perineum, and goes back to delivering those maddening licks with the flat of his tongue. 

Jughead tugs at his hair, and when that doesn't work, he outright begs, and finally he gets to feel Sweet Pea's tongue stab into him again. 

It's so good, and he just needs a little pressure on his dick to come, he's sure of it. 

Jughead reaches down for his dick, feeling desperate and close to coming, but no sooner has he released his death grip on Sweet Pea's hair, than Reggie grabs his wrists in one large hand, quick as a snake. 

“No touching,” Reggie tells him, sounding a little breathless. He forces Jughead's hands back and presses them down into the mattress behind him, holding him down even as Jughead struggles against his grip. 

“Please,” Jughead begs, almost sobbing with need. Sweet Pea's tongue is spearing into him, and he needs _more_. 

“Shh, princess,” Reggie hushes him. “You're gonna get everything you need.” 

Sweet Pea's tongue continues to fuck into him, and his dick feels like it's gonna burst. He's on the edge of coming, his balls practically pulsing with the need to release, and he just needs- 

He humps the air, completely fucking shameless, fucking Sweet Pea's face, tossing his head on the rucked-up sheets, just a mindless slave to the pleasure. 

His hole feels sloppy and wet with Sweet Pea's saliva, and it's filthy, what he's letting be done to himself, filthy the way he loves it. 

Sweet Pea spears his tongue into him again, going deep and curling against his walls, and Jughead comes with a wail, his untouched cock dribbling a weak pulse of come against his stomach. 

There's a pause, and all he can hear is his own heavy breathing and the pounding of his own pulse in his ears. 

Sweet Pea is still licking at his hole, even as it's spasming with aftershocks, and Jughead twitches, feeling over-stimulated and fucked out. 

“Not bad,” Reggie says, and then, “my turn now.” 

Sweet Pea huffs out a laugh, and then he carefully lowers Jughead's feet down on the floor and rises to his feet. He smacks a wet kiss on Jughead's cheek, which makes Jughead, hypocrite that he is, wrinkle his nose a little, and then he ambles his way over to the bathroom, no doubt to clean himself up a little, because, _holy shit_ , he just ate him out. 

What Jughead wants more than anything right now is to sleep, but Reggie has other ideas. 

“Up on the bed,” he says. “Hands and knees.” 

Jughead groans, but he heaves himself up and clumsily drags himself to the middle of the bed, going down on his elbows, his head hanging between his arms. 

There is some rustling behind him, and he assumes that Reggie is getting undressed. 

Soon, he can feel Reggie give a friendly pat to his flank, and then there's the quiet snicking sound of the lube bottle being opened, and he can feel Reggie's lube slick finger rubbing insistently at his ass. 

Two thick fingers glide into his ass, and Jughead can't hold back his moan. His nerve-endings already feel sensitized from Sweet Pea's tongue, and now Reggie is expertly finger-fucking him, brushing past his prostate and making him shiver. 

“Sensitive, huh?” Reggie mumbles behind him. 

He reaches for Jughead's dick with a lube-sticky hand, and gives him a luxurious stroke from root to tip. 

Some little devil in Jughead has him say, “I thought you were supposed to make me come untouched,” but Reggie just chuckles, not stopping his dual assault on Jughead's ass and dick. 

“That was just Sweet Pea,” he says.”Me, I like the true and tested methods. Besides, I know you like my hands.” 

“Mhm,” Jughead agrees, a little distracted now that Reggie's ministrations are bringing him back to full hardness. 

The bed dips down next to him, and Jughead opens his eyes to the sight of Sweet Pea making himself comfortable against the headboard. He must have gotten undressed when he was in the bathroom, because he's naked too. 

His dick is hard, and Jughead suddenly wishes it was in his mouth. 

Sweet Pea must be a mind-reader, because he smirks and gets up on his knees right in front of Jughead's face. 

“Gonna suck my dick, baby?” Sweet Pea asks, and Jughead nods, eyes going a little cross-eyed when Reggie gives him a particularly vicious thrust with his fingers. 

Sweet Pea holds his dick steady for him, and Jughead opens his mouth and leans up. Sweet Pea tastes of clean salt, and Jughead massages the head with his tongue until it releases a drop of precome in his mouth. 

He moans, not knowing if it's from the salty flavour on his tongue or Reggie's thick fingers in his ass. 

“Think you can make me come before Reggie gets you off?” Sweet Pea asks, and Jughead looks up at him, nodding his head a little. 

It makes Sweet Pea's cock slip out of his mouth, and he sighs, a little irritated, and grabs Jughead's face. 

This time, Sweet Pea feeds him his cock, holding his face still and controlling the pace. It makes him choke a little, when he hits the back of his throat, Sweet Pea's pubic hair scratchy against his face, but it's better like this. He can just close his eyes and savour it; Sweet Pea in his mouth, Reggie's fingers in his ass and on his dick. 

He gets lost in it, the sweet pressure on his prostate and the softly coaxing hand on his dick, his nose full with the smell of Sweet Pea's musk, his mouth blooming with the flavour of his arousal, his ears ringing with the sounds of Reggie and Sweet Pea's heavy breathing and his own choked-off moans and gasps, the filthy wet sounds coming from his own mouth. 

“Gonna come,” Sweet Pea warns him, giving a hard thrust that cuts off his air supply entirely, shooting ropes of thick come down his throat. 

Jughead comes like that, choking on Sweet Pea's dick and grinding back on Reggie's fingers, his own orgasm almost dry at this point, just a few pathetic drops dribbling out. 

His elbows go out under him, but Sweet Pea holds him up, let's him get his shaky limbs in order. 

“Ready for my cock?” Reggie asks, sounding a little shaky himself, and Jughead realizes that he hasn't gotten to come yet. 

“Yeah,” he says, struggling to get back up on his elbows. 

“You're doing great,” Sweet Pea murmurs, giving his bowed back a caress, and then he gets off the bed again. 

“He's just getting some water,” Reggie says. 

There's the snick of the lube bottle being opened again, a thumb pressing down on his rim, and then there's cold lube being squirted right into him. It makes him shudder, inside and out, hole spasming helplessly, and he can feel some of the cold lube being pushed out, gliding lazily down his crack. 

“Oops,” Reggie says, a little meanly. The bed shifts a little underneath them as Reggie goes up on his knees, and then he's dragging his hard dick through the excess lube and pushing inside him in one smooth glide. 

Reggie is big, but Jughead is more than ready for him. 

There's a horrible squelching sound as he's penetrated, and he wonders if Reggie emptied the whole bottle inside him. 

“Fuuck,” Reggie groans, heartfelt relief in his voice at finally getting some pressure around his dick. 

Jughead squeezes around him, making both himself and Reggie hiss at the sensation. 

“Ready for number three?” Reggie asks, and Jughead realizes that he's still keeping count, that Sweet Pea probably is too. With that comes to foggy recollection that Sweet Pea is only at one, and Jughead whimpers brokenly. 

Reggie hushes him and pats his hip. “You can take it,” he says confidently. 

“Just enjoy the ride,” he suggests, and then he pulls out, dragging a rivulet of lube with him, making it glide down his taint. 

He pushes back in hard, fucking a startled, “hah,” sound out of Jughead. 

Sweet Pea returns to the bed, putting a glass of water down on the bedside table before he sits down next to Jughead again, gentle fingers brushing his sweaty hair away from his face and behind his ear. 

He keeps his hand in Jughead's hair, a reminder maybe, a comfort, or a sign of ownership. Jughead doesn't really care; just relishes in having him with him. 

He kind of loses track of the plot for a while, reduced to just a hole for Reggie to fuck, his thick cock pistoning into him, dragging moans and whimpers from his throat. 

Reggie swears, his hand fumbling for Jughead's dick. 

Jughead gives himself over to the feeling, of being taken, of Reggie dick seeking out his prostate and making him shiver, of Reggie's hand too, rough and a bit clumsy on his dick, and he's on the edge of being too sore, but it still feels so _good_. 

“You're such a slut,” Reggie moans, almost sounding affectionate about it. 

Jughead just hums, not really disagreeing. 

Sweet Pea's hand is playing with his hair, and it's the perfect gentle counterpoint to the rough fucking Reggie is giving him. 

He didn't think he'd be able to come again so soon, but he does, surprising himself with how powerful his climax is. He wails as he comes, clenching hard around Reggie's dick, his entire body twitching with it. Reggie gives a couple of more thrusts, and then he's coming inside him with a roar, and Jughead collapses face-down on the bed, completely spent. 

His dick hurts. His ass is sore, and he winces in discomfort as Reggie pulls out, come and lube already trickling out and making him feel gross and sticky. 

“I don't think I can take much more,” he says, voice small, but there's Sweet Pea's hand carding through his hair again, and Reggie saying, “you can.” 

“You just need a little break,” Sweet Pea suggests. 

Together, Sweet Pea and Reggie gets him settled in Reggie's lap, resting against his sturdy chest and playing distractedly with his fingers while Sweet Pea holds the water glass so he can sip from it. 

“I think there's a candy bar in the drawer,” Reggie says, nodding his head towards his bed table. 

“Candy by the bed, and lube in the bathroom; something is seriously wrong with you, Mantle,” Sweet Pea says, smiling a little as he rifles through the drawer. 

He opens the candy wrapper and feeds the chocolate to Jughead, piece by piece, and he'd feel mortified about it if he wasn't so exhausted. 

As it is, he just opens his mouth for each piece and takes it from Sweet Pea's fingers, chewing gratefully. 

When he's had every last piece, Sweet Pea holds up his chocolate-stained fingers, and Jughead obediently licks them clean, face flaming. 

Sweet Pea's dark eyes are boring into him and there's a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. 

He gets a few more sips of water, and then Reggie surprises him by pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“Think you're ready for the next round?” he asks. 

Jughead isn't, not really, but he still nods his head. 

Reggie gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and then he's pushed-pulled to the head-end of the bed, and gently coaxed into lying down on his back. 

“Lift your hips,” Reggie says, and he does, allowing him to push a pillow under his ass. 

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied. “Never let it be said that Reggie Mantle isn't a gracious host.” 

It makes Sweet Pea chuckle, and Jughead is secretly amazed that, apparently, all it took to make the two of them be friends was a threesome. 

_A common goal_ , he thinks, a little hysterically, _a common goal is key_. 

Reggie moves out of the way, and Sweet Pea takes his place between Jughead's thighs. 

“Hi,” Jughead says, smiling a little loopily at him. 

Sweet Pea leans down and kisses him in lieu of replying, his hands pushing down at Jughead's biceps. 

They just make out for a while, kissing and nipping at each other's lips. 

Jughead grabs at the dogtags hanging around Sweet Pea's neck, using his grip on the chain to keep Sweet Pea's head where he wants it. His other hand clutches at his broad and muscular back. 

Sweet Pea lifts his head up and glares at him. 

“That hurts,” he says, dark eyebrows furrowed. 

Jughead rolls his eyes, but he lets go of the chain. 

“I didn't realize you were so sensitive,” he says, “who knew Mr. Southside tough guy was made of spun sugar?” 

“It's not a leash,” Sweet Pea grumbles. 

Jughead distracts him from his complaining by reaching up and pressing a wet kiss on his chin. 

Sweet Pea retaliates by sucking another mark on Jughead's neck. 

“If you don't pace yourself, Jughead won't be able to wear anything except turtlenecks for a week,” Reggie says. He's made himself comfortable on the desk-chair. All that's missing is the popcorn. 

Sweet Pea blows a raspberry on Jughead's chest, making both him and Reggie laugh. 

“Watch and learn,” Sweet Pea says, echoing Reggie's words from earlier. “Maybe you'll pick up a thing or two.” 

He plays with Jughead's nipples for a while, but they're already so sensitive that it doesn't take much for them to feel on the edge of too sore, and Jughead pushes at his head in protest. 

His dick is sore too, and when Sweet Pea touches it, Jughead bats his hand away. 

“Too much?” Sweet Pea asks, and Jughead nods. 

“Yeah.” 

“Hm,” Sweet Pea says, and reaches for the lube instead. 

He squirts some on his fingers, and rubs a little experimentally around Jughead's wet and fucked-open rim. 

“This okay?” he asks, and Jughead hums. 

His skin feels sensitive, but not painful, and he wonders what Sweet Pea will feel like inside him. He tries clenching down, and it hurts, and all of a sudden he wants something inside him, to get rid of that awful empty feeling. 

“More,” he says, and Sweet Pea raises his eyebrow at him. 

“You sure?” he says, but he's already pushing inside him with two fingers, the glide easy as anything now that he's already had Reggie's dick inside him. 

It's still not enough, and Jughead whines, tossing his head on the pillow. 

“Fuck me,” he begs, “I need your cock inside me.” 

Sweet Pea stares at him, wide-eyed. 

“Fuck,” he says. 

“Don't be a pussy, bro,” Reggie says from the chair. “Give it to him already.” 

Jughead could do without the commentary from the peanut gallery, but at least it has the desired effect of making Sweet Pea give a determined nod. 

Sweet Pea grabs hold of his dick and works it up to full hardness with a few well-timed tugs, and then he pushes inside Jughead. 

His body accepts it easier than it ever has before, and, finally, Jughead feels _full_. He squeezes his internal muscles and revels in it, the soreness from his earlier fucking almost too much like this, an addictive mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck, you're so not tight anymore,” Sweet Pea says, looking a little wild-eyed, and Jughead moans, feeling exactly like the slut Reggie named him as, and not minding at all. 

Sweet Pea isn't shy about giving it to him, fucking him hard, Jughead's heels digging into his ass in encouragement. 

“Gonna keep you like this,” Sweet Pea promises, “fucked open and wet with come,” and it's not what either of them wants, not really, but right now the fantasy of it is unbearably hot. 

It makes Jughead moan, picturing it. 

“Yes,” he chants, delirious with it, “yes, do it.” 

He's got a tight grip on Sweet Pea's shoulders, and if his nails were just a little longer, he'd make him bleed. 

Harder,” he begs, or demands, really, and Sweet Pea _growls_ , and fucks into him so hard that his head smacks against the – luckily – padded headboard. 

This time, when Sweet Pea reaches for his dick, he doesn't fight it. 

He's rough, stripping his cock in time with his thrusts, and it's painful-good, sparks of something great hiding behind the soreness. 

“Sweet Pea,” Jughead moans,” fingers digging into his back. 

“I've got you,” Sweet Pea says, grinding into his prostate, and Jughead throws his head back with a moan. 

His body twitches helplessly when he comes, his orgasm making him feel fuzzy and useless with pleasure. 

Sweet Pea fucks into him a few more times before he comes too, emptying his load in Jughead's ass with a satisfied groan. 

He collapses on Jughead's chest, a heavy and weirdly comforting weight. Jughead can feel his dick softening inside him before it finally slips out entirely, leaving behind a mess of come and lube. 

“I'm definitely putting that one in the spank bank,” Reggie says, after a beat. He sounds impressed. “But I still win.” 

Sweet Pea lifts his head. “I'm not done yet,” he says, and Jughead can only stare at him in horror. 

“I'm not doing that again,” he says. He's sore all over, and he doesn't think his body can take more abuse tonight. 

“Don't worry,” Sweet Pea says. “I have a plan.” 

“Think you can turn over?” 

Jughead squints at him, suspicious, but also knowing he did agree to this dumb game. 

“Okay,” he says, “but then it's over.” 

“That's a tie,” Sweet Pea says, looking over at Reggie. 

“Fine,” Reggie says, “but only because I want to be able to go to sleep sometime.” 

Grudgingly, Jughead turns over, hugging a pillow to his face and rising up on his knees, spreading his legs a little. 

That simple action alone is enough to make him hiss from discomfort. 

“You're so wet,” Sweet Pea says, sounding a little wondering. 

Jughead isn't surprised – his ass feels like a fucking slip-and-slide at this point. 

Sweet Pea traces his rim with gentle fingers, and Jughead twitches away from his touch. 

“Can you clench down?” he asks, curious. 

Jughead does, whimpering as he squeezes his internal muscles, clenching on emptiness . It makes more come dribble out, and he hides his head in the pillow, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Jughead nods into the pillow. 

“Hm,” Sweet Pea says, and then his hands are on his ass-cheeks, holding him open. 

Jughead can only imagine how he looks, hole fucked open and puffy; pink and red splattered with white come; ruined. 

Sweet Pea doesn't seem to mind it though, his tongue darting out and licking around Jughead's sensitive rim, cleaning him up. 

“You watch too much porn,” Reggie says, voice a mixture of awe and disgust. 

Sweet Pea just hums, the vibration from his mouth making Jughead jump a little. 

Sweet Pea's tongue delves into his hole, dragging out lube and come – his and Reggie's- and licking it up, humming like he loves it. 

Jughead feels frozen; suspended in time. 

He still aches inside, but Sweet Pea's mouth is gentle on him as he sucks and licks the come out of him. 

After a while it even starts to feel good again, and he catches himself moving his hips a little, pushing his ass closer to Sweet Pea's skilled mouth. One of the hands wander downwards, until there are fingers gently massaging his taint. 

It makes Jughead whimper, tears springing to his eyes. It doesn't hurt, but he's so sensitive right now; overcome with both pleasure and pain. 

He's faintly aware of Reggie's voice ringing out, asking, “what are you doing?” 

Sweet Pea lifts his face from Jughead's ass, making him sob a complaint. He kicks his feet too, for good measure. 

“Prostate massage,” Sweet Pea says, a little breathless, and then he goes back to work, sliding in a finger next to his tongue and pressing down on Jughead's prostate both inside and out. 

Jughead bites at the pillow, trying to quiet his sobs. He can feel the fabric getting wet from tears and sweat, but Sweet Pea doesn't stop; just keeps up that gentle and inexorable rubbing with his fingers, inside and out, his tongue licking softly at his rim in something like an apology. 

His dick is soft, but he realizes that it doesn't matter. Sweet Pea is _milking_ him. 

When he finally comes, it isn't earth shattering. It's just a weak little dribble of come forced out of his cock, the feeling something akin to a weak electric shock. 

He sobs into his pillow, more out of relief than pleasure. 

Sweet Pea let's him go, careful hands turning him on his side, and lying down behind him, spooning him. 

“Shh, sweetheart,” he tells him. “You did good, you did so good, baby.” 

Jughead sniffles, hiding his face in Sweet Pea's neck, breathing in the comforting, musky scent of him. 

“So, I guess I'll just crash in the guest room tonight,” Reggie says, voice amused. 

“You do that,” Sweet Pea agrees. 

He's rubbing gentle circles on Jughead's arm, and Jughead closes his eyes and let's himself enjoy the gentle movement. 

Reggie pulls up the blanket over the two of them, bending down and kissing Jughead's cheek, and Jughead blinks his eyes open, looking up at his handsome face. 

“Eww, you're all sweaty,” Reggie complains, wrinkling his nose and curling his mouth in disgust. 

“Gimme a second,” he says, and then he lopes off to the bathroom. 

He returns with a damp cloth, and Jughead strains his neck a little, allows him to wipe his face clean from tears and sweat and what he hopes isn't snot. 

“There you go,” he finally says, and then, sounding a little wistful, “it was fun while it lasted.” 

He's not just talking about tonight, Jughead realizes. 

Reggie's smiling a little, his lovely almond-shaped eyes soft. “No hard feelings,” he says. 

“No hard feelings,” Jughead agrees. 

He watches Reggie leave, closing the door quietly behind him, and then he closes his eyes and snuggles closer into Sweet Pea's embrace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, Reggie, but you and Jughead aren't endgame.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Holy crap, I actually finished it. Thank you for all your encouragement! I couldn't have done it without you.
> 
> If you find any mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me. I've read through it a couple of times, but I don't have a beta-reader, and sometimes the words I type don't match the ones in my brain. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [this](https://riverdale-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1356.html?thread=674124#cmt674124) kinkmeme prompt. I got a bit obsessed with the backstory for the set-up, so it turned into a chaptered story. Oops?


End file.
